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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25920205">Life made you bitter, I can make you tender</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyinghere/pseuds/dyinghere'>dyinghere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RP Logs Titled with Mildly Pretentious Jack Stauber Song Lyrics [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Character Growth, Depression, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Emotional Discussion, Emotional Slow Burn, Falling out, Guilt, Horseback Riding, Horses, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Minigolf Shenanigans, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Slow Burn, Spanking, Tickling, complicated feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:40:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>235,327</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25920205</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyinghere/pseuds/dyinghere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John meets his best friend's brother while at a party, in... unconventional circumstances.</p><p>And for some reason, Dirk doesn't kick his ass when he finds out.</p><p>(There's an act of dubious consent in the first chapter only, and mentions of it throughout the rest of the story! I just wanted to make sure to err on the side of caution while tagging.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, John Egbert/Dirk Strider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RP Logs Titled with Mildly Pretentious Jack Stauber Song Lyrics [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2241366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! This is an RP log from the website cherp.chat! I know they were eventually going to implement an Ao3 converter but I got impatient and I was assured by a friend that this made for a pretty good story!</p><p>I want to point out that the extreme tags only apply to the first chapter. The rest of the story is how Dirk and John deal with the situation.</p><p>Finally settled on a title thanks to binging Jack Stauber for a few weeks. It's from the song 'Al Dente'!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John usually never stays late at parties like this - the thought of sleeping in a building with a ton of other drunk people always felt so weird to him. But he'd had a little too much tonight, and it was late enough that there wouldn't be an easy way home. It was too much effort to find where he'd left his phone, so he bites the bullet and stumbles around until he can find an unlocked door. There's someone already using this room, though, and he looks dead drunk. He almost slips back out until he takes a closer look at the man spread out on the bed, and for some reason, he decides to stay.</p>
<p>He's drunk enough to be tempted but sober enough to know that it's a bad idea, so he pulls the door closed and locks it so no one else can find out what he wants to do. John bites his lip and silently (or so he assumes - the stranger(or maybe not; he <em>does</em> look familiar) on the bed was probably too out cold to notice anyway) strides over. "Hey. You awake?" He tests the limits, calling out to the man before stroking a hand up the back of his knee, watching his face for a reaction.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk was not, and had never been, a party person. He could have fun, if he tried. But there was something about the concept of a room full of drunk and increasingly unruly strangers that made his skin crawl with unease. When he was sober, at least. Alcohol was great at taking the edge off of his social anxiety, and maybe even enticing him into a game of beer pong or two. Tonight, Dirk found himself much, <em>much</em> drunker than he typically allowed himself to get, following an unfortunate and embarrassing mix up between Absolut and Everclear. While the host of this party might not have believed it, labels were awfully fucking important when it came to clear alcohol.</p>
<p>Once he'd stumbled ass-backward past his light-weighted and gracefully ignored limit, the fun was puttering out. His limbs felt heavy, bones like iron in his skin. He found himself fumbling clumsily into a guest bedroom, not having the motivation or the forethought to strip down before throwing himself heavily into the unoccupied bed, and passing the fuck out.</p>
<p>When John entered the room, Dirk was splayed out on his side, his shirt hiked up a bit to expose a patch of bare skin above his hip. He didn't stir when he was touched so carefully, sleeping like the dead and smelling strongly of alcohol.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John's just sober enough to be jumpy right after the first touch, skittering back just a moment so if he did wake up, he wouldn't be awkwardly close. But the other man is completely out of it, and John slowly moves closer again. He sits on the edge of the bed and rubs his hand across his stomach over that strip of exposed skin, staring down over his shoulder at the other man's mouth. Now that he's closer, he thinks he can recognize him; John had never been that close to Dirk, but he'd at least heard enough about him from Dave, and had seen him around. After adjusting his position a bit, he runs his thumb over Dirk's lower lip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk's lips part slightly at the disturbance, but he's otherwise still. The soft rise and fall of his chest, puffs of breath against John's hand, are really the only things that give away the fact that he's not as dead as he looks. And also, apparently, the appearance of his tongue. He subconsciously takes John's thumb into his mouth, as if on instinct. If he were awake he'd likely be cursing his oral fixation, but fortunately he was not, and simply held the intrusion between his lips, the tongue pressing softly to the pad of his thumb.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Nice." John keeps his voice low, but doesn't care much about the volume, talking as though he were holding a casual conversation. No one could hear him outside the room, and even if Dirk registered the sound of a voice, he hopes it'd probably just seem to be in his dreams anyway.</p>
<p>John smiles, happy with this little instinct of the other man's, and takes a moment to prod at Dirk's front teeth. He pushes against his tongue, rubbing it and considering pulling his jaw down, but figures there are more fun things he can do. He stands again and checks his pockets - shit, must have left his phone out in the kitchen, too late now - before sitting close so he can stroke his fingers over Dirk's inner thigh. "Can you hear me?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk's response wasn't immediate, if it could be considered a response at all. He lets out a soft mumble; whatever he was trying to say in his sleep coming out like an entirely incoherent string of consonants, his expression peaceful. Seems like John's words were nestling into his dreams just as predicted, rather than rousing him. He breathes out a sigh through his parted lips, turning his face further into the pillows, his hips shifting and thigh inadvertently pressing closer to John's touch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah. <em>Nice</em>." This guy sure was receptive. John felt like a huge pervert - which honestly made it even more enjoyable to his alcohol-clouded mind - as he leans over to slip his hand up under the fabric of Dirk's shirt, pinching a nipple. Now that he's more confident that this guy wasn't about to wake up for at least a while, he pulls his legs further apart and climbs up between them. Hopefully, he wasn't one of those drunks that couldn't get it up.</p>
<p>John settles himself and continues to stroke his palms over Dirk's thighs, thumbs pressing a little more forcefully into the muscle before he cups over the crotch of his pants. "How's that, dude?" It's kind of nice being able to say whatever he wanted without repercussion. "You gonna get nice and hard for me?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk was pliant as John rolled him to spread his legs, settling on his back with a hand loosely curled next to his head. Typically, he was a light sleeper - which might have been why John's touches were embedding themselves so easily into his soon-to-be wet dream, the alcohol keeping him drowsy and sated enough not to wake just yet. It would take a lot to pull his consciousness from the syrupy molasses of drunk slumber.</p>
<p>His breath hitched just slightly as John pinched his nipple, but his face stayed just as peaceful as ever. At the firmer touch to his thighs, bridging closer between his legs, Dirk's body was more stimulated. His dick twitched with interest under John's fondling hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John nods as though <em>obviously</em> that was the only option. "You're definitely on a hair-trigger, huh dude? I can respect that." He shifts his weight on the bed, adjusting the front of his jeans as they also started to feel a little tight. His free hand slips up under Dirk's ass from between his thighs, and he holds his thumb up so it presses between his cheeks, or as well as it can with the fabric in the way. He moves it in little circles for a moment as he rubs over that heat pooling around Dirk's dick. "What'm I gonna do with you, huh? I have so many options..." John bites his lower lip and glances at the door, and he wishes again that he had his phone, until he gets the idea to root around and see if he can find Dirk's. He keeps the hand on Dirk's groin because that's the part he's most concerned with at the moment - he could play with his ass at any time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk's phone was in his back pocket, blinking with missed notifications - responses to a few less than fortunate drunk texts that he'd definitely regret in the morning. His thighs instinctively start to press together when John's thumb presses against his ass, fabric or no. Though, his legs end up meeting the resistance of... well, John's whole body, really, so they end up settling uselessly back down to the bed. Dirk wasn't hard yet, but the warmth of John's hand definitely had some stirrings going on down below.</p>
<p>In his dream, the mysterious stranger with a hand on his dick says something akin to <em>What am I gonna do with you?</em> and Dirk responds with something akin to <em>Fuck me, probably.</em> So, it wasn't too difficult for him to sport a half chub at this point, a semi-hard line under John's hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John snickers at the reaction, feeling a little smug at how easy he could get this guy's motor revving. He palms over Dirk's pockets and finds the phone relatively quickly, and he climbs - clumsy himself because he's pretty buzzed - away from him to stand beside the bed as he carefully pulls it from his pocket.</p>
<p>He leans to press their lips together, humming quietly until their front teeth clack together. John pulls back with a wince, licking his lips, because if anything could wake someone up, it'd be too much of that. Curse his buck teeth. Hopefully this nerd didn't lock his phone; he clicks the home button to find out as he, still standing, rubs his palm over the growing bulge of Dirk's dick through his pants. He swipes the messages away aimlessly, not interested in being a nosy bitch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk, unsurprisingly, does not kiss back. His brows furrow just slightly at the clack of his teeth, turning his head away from the unpleasant sensation and letting out another small wordless murmur. His dick strains against his too-tight jeans, and he shifts his hips a bit, but otherwise makes no movement to adjust himself as John touches him.</p>
<p>In John's hand, Dirk's phone wasn't locked because he saw no reason to lock it - he encrypted any particularly sensitive data himself, so there wasn't much to steal. The phone essentially soft-bricked itself upon incorrect facial recognition anyway. Luckily for John, it was dark enough in the room for that not to be possible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Damn, dude, you're way too trusting." John smirks, blissfully unaware of the failsafe he's navigated, and after some navigation he manages to find the contacts. He taps his own number into the list, thinking for just a moment if his phone displays pictures or not when it receives them as a message. He's fairly sure it just says something along the lines of '##### sent 23hj3434.jpg' so there shouldn't be anything incriminating if someone else manages to find his phone before he can get to it. Besides, he locks his phone like any normal paranoid individual. John notices the shifting hips and remembers the wince after their kiss, so he removes his hand from Dirk's dick. He's not ready for him to wake up yet.</p>
<p>But just in case, he pulls up the camera function and snaps a tasteful shot of an unconscious drunk man with a tent in his pants, sending it to himself. He wonders momentarily if he should like... Delete these right away, or save his name in Dirk's phone to see what might come of it. Very quickly, he enters himself as 'John the hunk &lt;3' in the contacts. And if he decided to leave it there, he had a great idea of the picture to use for his contact listing in Dirk's phone, considering his beau didn't wake up early.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk stirs a bit more when John's hand leaves him, rolling over onto his side obliviously. Without the touch, his dick is pressing uncomfortably to his zipper with absolutely no payoff, and both his dream self and his unconscious body are both very much <em>not</em> into that. He slips his hand into his pants to adjust himself to a more comfortable position, or as comfortable as it can be when he lacks the dexterity to unzip the jeans. His hand finds comfort there, fingers tucked snugly under the pressure of his waistband, and settles comfortably back into his deep sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John looks over the picture he took with a little smile, glancing up only when Dirk rolls over. "Whoa, hey man." He tucks the phone in his pocket and climbs back onto the bed, smiling a little more when he spies the man touching himself. He gently coaxes Dirk onto his back once more, little by little, then kneels between his thighs again.</p>
<p>He bends to press a little kiss on the front of Dirk's pants, then works at undoing them. "I'm not done yet... Have a little patience, dude. I'll get you there." Once he has the pants undone, he pushes Dirk's hand up onto his belly so he can slip his own hand through the opening in the man's underwear, fingers stroking over hot skin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk is still a bona fide ragdoll when John rolls him onto his back again. He sighs contentedly when he feels the touch between his legs, his head rolling to nuzzle into the pillow. The words seep into his mind, contributing to his current fantasy, fuzzy floating images of his legs wrapped around a pair of hips, fingers curling into broad shoulders as he was touched. His fingers twitch as if to mimic the hold he dug into phantom skin, and lets out another mumble, hard as ever under John's exploring fingers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He can't help but think about how cute Dirk is, even as he fondles him through his underwear. John kind of hopes maybe after he sobers up and decides what to do about the pictures that he and Dirk could try something. But it's a distant thought in his mind as he pulls the man out of the fabric and grins. His fingers curl around the base of Dirk's cock, squeezing as he shifts to lay between his thighs, and once he's in a pleasant enough position, he whips the other man's phone out of his pocket and brings up the camera app once more.</p>
<p>He switches the camera so he can see himself, then takes a few tries to get the angle he wants. Soon enough, John presses his lips to the base of his dick and, with a smile that dimples his cheeks, snaps a shot of him lovingly kissing the sleeping man, his dick laying up along the side of his face. He sends it to his phone, then sets it as his contact image with his pulse pounding in his chest. He should absolutely delete all the evidence of this happening... but damn. That was a good picture.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was an awfully ballsy move, and if Dirk was conscious enough, he might have verbally appreciated the moxie on John. Though, while he wasn't conscious enough to appreciate him verbally, he could physically, through the typical haze of sleep. He shifted at the warm press of John's lips to the base of his cock and the ring of his fingers holding him in place. He didn't make a noise, but something in his expression changed, the slight furrow in his brow softening, lips parting just a fraction.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John's a little too lost in the sauce to take in any changes in Dirk's expression because now that he's had his mouth on the man he kind of can't focus on anything else. He places the phone beside him, ready for any more impromptu photo ops, before returning his attention to Dirk's dick.</p>
<p>He peppers it with chaste little kisses, sure to push his lips out far enough that they're soft and pliant, and one of his hands slips back under to press at his ass, thumb rubbing over his pants to try and find his hole through the layers of clothes. He swipes his tongue over the underside, then curls it around the tip before taking him into his mouth with a quiet groan. John bobs his head slowly before taking another picture, tilting his head so his cock pokes out against his cheek, making it bulge in an obscene, unmistakable way. He winks at the camera.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk lets out a genuine moan as John works him over with his mouth, his voice breathy and soft. His cock twitched when John's lips and tongue sunk over the head, the fingers resting on his stomach twitching again. In his dream, his hand was tangled in the mystery bara dude's hair as he was blown, pressed up against some solid surface with two fingers up his ass. He hadn't had a dream that felt this vivid in a long time, and he was <em>living</em> for it. He says something in his fantasy that was sufficiently smug and domineering, no doubt, but the translation that John hears is the embarrassingly bishie little moan he'd let out before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He goes to town on the dick like he never has before, having never actually fucked around with anyone while being any level of intoxicated - the lack of inhibition is nice, and John slurps over his skin lewdly, ears perking at the little moan. He pops off and wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist, smirking. "Cute."</p>
<p>John quickly undoes his own pants, shoving them and his briefs down his hips impatiently so he can touch himself just for a moment, before pulling Dirk's thighs back together. He awkwardly moves to sit on his lap (it was difficult to move with his pants holding his legs together) and allows his heavy dick to slap down against Dirk's belly as he once more grabs the phone, setting the camera to forward-facing. He takes a shot of him rubbing his cockhead over Dirk's belly, leaving a trail of pre, before sitting lower and taking them both in one of his hands, getting ballsy enough to take a ten-second video of him slowly, teasingly stroking them together, paying special attention to Dirk. After that, he's hit his limit for good ideas - and he's not the type of guy to stick his dick in a sleeping near-stranger's body or mouth without consent (he might be fucked up but he has SOME morals) so he closes the message, clicks off the screen, and stuffs the phone back in Dirk's pocket as his hand speeds up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When John climbs on top, Dirk's expression changes again, the face of relaxation fading. Maybe he was lamenting the loss of a warm mouth on his dick, but more likely, he was just starting to teeter on the edge of conscious and unconscious. His brows knit, fingers curling as he mentally drags his hands down his dream boy's back. At some point they'd shifted, Dirk's back still pressed against that ever-present surface as the guy straddled his lap. It was a strange thing to stand out so well in his mind, the feeling heavy and solid as it complemented the lovely friction on his cock. Very strange. The solid surface behind him felt a lot softer, like he was sinking into comfy pillows rather than an unyielding brick wall. And there was this weird... pressure on his thighs, like his mystery guy was straddling him awkwardly with a pair of pants still on. Huh.</p>
<p>Dirk opens his eyes blearily, panting softly at the very real friction on his cock. Some wet dream. "Th' fuck?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes another few moments for John to get situated in a way that he isn't worried about losing his balance thanks to being tangled from the mid-thigh and down and also being not fully sober, but once he gets there, close enough to Dirk that their dicks are almost fully pressed together - if he were sober and this was a regularly occurring thing, he might try to compare lengths like the fucking chad he can playfully be sometimes - his head tilts back and he grinds his hips down on the other man in ecstasy.</p>
<p>Scenarios run through his mind; fingers spreading Dirk open, or rubbing his dick over the other man's lips, or resting his ankles on his shoulders as Dirk pounds into him (he's versatile in his desires and doesn't really get hung up on things like one person always doing one thing) and it's enough that he doesn't realize Dirk's stirring beneath him until he hears his voice. His body tenses for just a moment, but he's come this far, so John fully prepares for a fist to his face, but by god he's gonna get off either way, so he just tightens his grip and looks down at him. "Hey, man."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk hisses as John tightens his grip, but surprisingly makes no move to introduce his knuckles to John's jaw. He was still panting softly, his eyes lidded as he slowly, lazily, comprehends the situation on top of him. Seems like his dream boy was in bed with him all along. And fuck, was he a sight for drunk eyes. "Did you, <em>ah</em>- miss the memo about conscious consent? You somnophilic bastard." Dirk constructs the sentence pretty well for someone as drunk, hard, and sleepy as he currently is, but the slur is heavy, and his hands are desperate as they grip John's thighs. He was, maybe, getting off on this a little more now. But he'd leave that particular brand of sexual discovery in the back of his mind for later. As if he could think about it now. His next words ring clear as a bell. "Don't stop. Feels good."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John isn't even aware of the tense line of his shoulders until Dirk makes it clear he isn't about to freak out or throw hands, and he can actually relax. He smiles down at the man, eyebrows jumping up with a quiet laugh. "Sorry man, uh. I may be a <em>li'l</em> drunk and you looked real good." He rocks his hips forward a little more insistently. "I didn't... do anything invasive or whatever. Just some touching." He licks his lips, then groans happily at the hands on his thighs. "Fuck yeah... real good."</p>
<p>He falls forward, bracing a hand on the bed just above Dirk's shoulder. His glasses slip further down his nose, but his eyes are closed now and he doesn't care, bucking down into his hand and pressing his dick more roughly against Dirk's belly. His hand continues to stroke the other man, but he's mainly just squeezing his thumb over himself, using it as something tight that he can imagine as Dirk's body.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk felt himself twitch at John's words - at the thought of him sneaking in here to feel him up while he was asleep and vulnerable. Yeah, it was pretty fucking creepy. But shit, his dick sure did seem to like it, didn't it? He casts the thought aside, bucking his hips eagerly into John's grip. His hands slide up from John's thighs, up his hips, all the way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He could feel hot arousal curling in the pit of his stomach, signaling that his orgasm alarmingly wasn't far off, somehow. He must have been at this for a while. He watches John rock against him, shades having been abandoned at some point during the night so amber eyes could lock directly onto his face. He spoke up, voice breathless and dripping with his lust. "Still pretty invasive, if you... if you ask me. Ah- fuck. I'm fuckin'... I'm close. What the hell did you do to me?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John groans appreciatively, leaning into his touches and loving how into it he was. "Fuck, man..." His chest heaves, then he pushes it into Dirk's hands, spine arching against him as he alternates grinding his hips and his torso against the other man. His eyes flutter closed again, feeling pretty close himself, and he'd worry about being a quickshot but Dirk's in the same boat, so he doesn't mind that much. Besides. The situation was super kinky.</p>
<p>"Y-yeah... Don't worry, dude. You c'n beat me up later if you want. One free ass-whupping." John laughs breathily. "Or pounding, if that's more your thing-" He cuts himself off with a low moan, feels himself drip more onto Dirk's belly. "Just... some touching and fondlin'... Had you in my mouth a li'l..." The words are broken up by his panting, and he can feel sweat start to slide down the back of his neck. "Just came in to get some sleep, 'n you were already in here. S...sorry. You're like. Super hot, dude."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk doesn't have enough wits about him to properly swallow down his moans, so they slip from his mouth unabashed. His fingers slide up into John's hair, his body tensing as the tight, pleasurable sensation inside of him winds up and up. John's admission of what <em>exactly</em> he'd been up to only pushed him closer to the edge, where he hung deliciously for those last few seconds. In the back of his mind, he reminded himself he'd love to take John up on that offer, in both connotations of said pounding. Maybe it was the alcohol, but <em>jesus fuck</em>, this guy was hot.</p>
<p>John's pre on his stomach mixes with his own as he teeters on the edge, the hot friction and the sensation of John's breath on his face leaving him rambling helplessly. "Nh, you fucking pervert, just... just shut the fuck up and- <em>ah, fuck</em> - and..." Whatever Dirk had planned to say was lost in his orgasm. His heels dug into the mattress with a shaky moan, fingers tightening in John's hair as ropes of white splattered his own stomach, and John's still pumping hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pushes his head into Dirk's hand with a sigh, tilting his face to try and kiss his wrist or arm if he can reach it, before he's distracted by the other man's words. A tiny part inside him prickles with shame at being called a pervert, but the rest of him agrees and even revels in that shame since it turned out okay in the end.</p>
<p>His breathing picks up speed, and John sinks his teeth gently into Dirk's wrist as the other man comes, feeling it slick up his fingers, and John's not long after. He pulls back to keep from giving Dirk any oversensitive discomfort, then beats his hand even faster now that he's just holding himself, the knowledge of why his grasp is so slippery only aiding to how quickly he adds to the mess over Dirk's belly. John is at least thankful he doesn't do anything embarrassing like shout - they weren't exactly out of earshot - but he does whine and twitch, slumping forward with his head on Dirk's shoulder. "<em>Fuck</em>... god." He's bleary-eyed and exhausted, but awake enough to palm around Dirk's waist to find his phone again with his clean hand. "Hold up, man... just gotta take care of something..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk watches lazily as he finishes himself off, letting out a soft noise when he felt the warmth of John's release spilling onto his stomach, taking a carnal sort of pleasure out of the gesture. It was quite a sight, and if he hadn't literally just came, that would have done it all over again for him. He was panting softly, fingers loosening their grip on John's hair to cradle the back of his neck, eyes fluttering in post-orgasmic drowsiness.</p>
<p>At least, until John starts fumbling around to try and grab his phone out of his pocket. Probably to add his number, like any good hook up would. Dirk was capable of getting it out himself, but he didn't argue much, feeling boneless under the weight of his inebriation and the tingly aftershocks of some real good frotting. So his words were empty when he murmured: "Don't get jizz on my screen."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He moves the back of his head against Dirk's hand, mimicking a petting motion as the only way he could show affection with one hand busy and one hand filthy. "Nah man..." The words are more slurred than before as sleep starts to tug on his consciousness. "I ain't nasty." He honks out a laugh, not really sure why that statement amused him so much, before thumbing open the messages he sent to himself.</p>
<p>He takes a final picture, both their spent dicks and the cum spattered over Dirk's skin, and sends it with a sloppily attempted message telling him to 'call me ;)' before closing it down once more and laying fully over his partner so he can drop it on the end table. John can feel the spend soaking into his shirt and he winces, rolls onto his side, and clumsily tries to pull his pants up. "Gonna pass out."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk blinks. Did John just. Take a picture of their dicks? <em>'Ain't nasty'</em> his ass. Interesting choice for a contact picture, but fuck, he could roll with it. It would be a nice reminder for after he inevitably fucking blacks this whole night out, given his current blood alcohol content.</p>
<p>He feels a little icky from the remnants of cum on his bare skin, but luckily John's ill-timed collapse on top of him had taken care of a good bit of it. He was too tired to deal with it anyway, just shucking his shirt down and lazily tucking his dick away. He might normally have had a quip or two for John's horrendous aftercare treatment, maybe a word analogy or two to a loveless marriage or a shoddy prom night hook up. But, again. Tired. He mumbles something in acknowledgment, turning over once John was off of him to snuggle back into the warm pillows he'd very recently been snoozing on. "Yeah, yeah. If you wanna round two, be more gentle. 'M fuckin' tired."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes an embarrassing amount of effort to get his pants up and fastened, and John doesn't even bother with the zipper at that point, the exertion causing him to breathe heavily as though he just sprinted down a hallway. He's tired and sated and super pleased with himself for having such a good idea and executing it so well, and now he wants nothing more than to sleep.</p>
<p>But Round Two sounds supremely tempting, and his cock twitches weakly in interest behind his briefs. But, no. John was way too tired to go again tonight; hell, he was tired before it even started. So he pushes himself up with a grunt and clumsily climbs back over Dirk toward the edge of the bed, only stopping to press a wet smooch to his cheek before standing. "Shit, man. Maybe next time."</p>
<p>He stumbles to his feet and over to the door, knowing if he stuck around he'd definitely try to go again and it'd be just really disappointing for the two of them. It takes him a moment to remember how to unlock the door, then he's a gentleman enough to re-lock it before leaving the room and wandering down the hall to find an empty place to sleep. He doesn't even care that the front of his shirt and his hand are both sticky with drying jizz, or that his fly is still down, because everyone else on this floor was also a combination of drunk and/or tired and probably wouldn't notice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk makes a displeased noise when John crawls over him, swatting at him futilely when he presses the sloppy kiss to his cheek. He didn't have it in him to be disappointed at the rejection of a round two, he was way too drained, and mostly kidding, anyway. Mostly.</p>
<p>The awkward dismount of John over him to the floor had him a little more awake though, and that allowed him to at least kick off his hipstery skinny jeans before settling back in to sleep. He watched John leave and curled up under the covers, the tingle of his orgasm having faded, instead replaced with that of contentment from a good lay, cuddles or no. He still sort of wishes he didn't have traces of cum drying on his abdomen, though. He falls asleep with little to no circumstance, just as before- but this time, his dreams were the just normal concoction of nonsense and cloudiness, no bara dream boy in sight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He doesn't make it to a new bed. John wakes up, eyes practically glued together and his head... not <em>pounding</em>, but there's definitely a throb of pain at every distant loud noise hinting to his dehydration. He groans and feels absolutely disgusting - alcohol sweats always made his skin feel somehow both starchy and greasy at the same time - and realizes he's just slumped against a wall, out in the hallway, with three other unlucky fuckers sprawled out over the floor.</p>
<p>There's something making his shirt cling to his belly, and his zipper's undone, and everything feels about as typical as waking up after a party should feel. Or at least close enough to the handful of times it's happened. John drags himself to his feet, stumbling down and checking his pockets - keys and phone both missing. Keys should be downstairs in the bowl, but it takes some wandering around to find his phone. Battery dead, with an attempt at plugging it into an outlet in the kitchen. He sighs and takes it with him, rooting out his keys as he scratches the front of his belly, scowling at the familiar dried mess that flakes off.</p>
<p>It doesn't actually register until he's sitting in his car, and the memories come flooding back. He's wide awake now, and he pulls out his phone to stare down into the black screen, kind of terrified of what he might find after he plugs it in. (But also weirdly, sickeningly excited.) He decides to get back to his apartment before checking.</p>
<p>It's still somehow surprising when he pulls up that first picture of an unconscious Dirk with a boner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Dirk wakes up, he feels heavy, filthy, and gross. His tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth, his stomach churning in that telltale way it always did when Dirk pushed himself too far. He had enough sense to throw himself out of bed, sprinting to the door that he really fucking hoped attached to an en suite and not a closet. He was in luck, this time. It'd be in pretty bad taste for whoever owned this house to have to play a riveting game of 'find the barf'.</p>
<p>He was in luck, and managed to heave his guts into an actual toilet instead of on a carpet. He sunk to his knees on the cool tile until he felt like he could move without spurring a brand new wave of nausea, and let out a deep, shuddering groan. Fuck, his head hurt. What the hell did he do last night? The last thing he remembered was standing in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink. And then, nothing but fuzzy afterthoughts. Some beer pong, maybe? At least he somehow ended up in a bed.</p>
<p>Dirk peeled himself off the floor and got to his feet, giving himself a once over in the mirror. He looked like shit, and he needed a fucking shower, like, <em>yesterday.</em> He pads back out to the bedroom, shucking on his pants and pocketing his phone, slipping triangular shades onto his face that he'd surely thank himself for once he stepped into the sunlight. He unlocks the door (some excellent foresight that drunk him apparently had) and steps out once he was decent. This house still smelled so strongly of booze that it made his stomach give another threatening lurch. Yeah, getting the fuck out of dodge was his first priority. Car. Home. Shower. Regret. He makes a beeline for the front door, stepping over some still passed out bodies as he goes, and fishes his keys from the bowl next to the door.</p>
<p>He rubs at his temples once he was in his car, the sun high in the sky. It had to be noon, at least, and this day was pretty much lost to the hangover. Dirk wakes up his phone to confirm his fate, the battery critically low, but somehow the time wasn't the first thing he saw.</p>
<p>Instead, it's a snapshot of his stomach, splattered with cum and accompanied by a dick that was very much <em>not</em> his. The next thing he sees is the cutesy little <em>call me ;)</em> underneath. Dirk mentally short circuits.</p>
<p>Fuck. What?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes him much longer to look at the rest of the images. John paces around his apartment, rubbing his face and stroking fingers through his hair, and even as the memories returned to him, he still couldn't believe he <em>did</em> something like that. He might be on the verge of a panic attack. With each new picture he looks at, more of the night comes back, and by the end of the list he was humiliated and hard and trying to decide if he felt better or worse that Dirk woke up and seemed into it.</p>
<p>... <em>Fuck</em>, why didn't he delete the pictures off his phone! What a dumb mistake... but at least this way he didn't feel as much guilt as he would have if there wasn't any evidence.</p>
<p>Several times throughout the day and the next, John picks up his phone, considers texting, calling, anything to apologize, but he's also kind of holding out hope that maybe Dirk hadn't found them yet. I mean, who regularly goes through their camera roll, right?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unfortunately for John, Dirk was just neurotic enough to go through practically <em>everything</em> on his phone. Once he found the pictures (The first one in his car that fateful morning, followed quickly by the rest. He'd practically broken into hives at the discovery, and immediately had to know if there were more) he'd done a compulsive check of pretty much everything. Worked himself into a pretty gnarly state of horror, thinking of all the shit John could have seen, and probably did see, on his phone. Those drunk texts to Jake... fuck, he wanted to disappear into the ground enough already.</p>
<p>But that particular level of embarrassment didn't really compare to the sheer magnitude he felt at the sight of all the pictures John had left for him. The... <em>interesting</em> story that they told. The photo of him unconscious gave him an inkling of suspicion, but the theory wasn't solid until he saw the singular video John had left him with.</p>
<p>Based on the mewling (<em>humiliating</em>) little moans he'd been letting out, he didn't sound like he was awake. But John was touching him anyway. And that was... not okay. Fuck, it definitely wasn't okay. It was creepy as hell, and the pictures John sent himself were the icing on top of the cake. Dirk was in some dude's spank bank now, without his consent. Christ, he couldn't even say John was just some dude, he was John fucking Egbert, his <em>brother's best friend.</em> He should be disgusted. Furious.</p>
<p>Keyword, of course, being <em>should.</em> Dirk couldn't get this out of his head, even two nights later. He wasn't entirely sure if it was morbid curiosity or a simple lack of self-preservation that had his fingers hovering over a new text conversation to John. He should tell him to apologize. He should tell him to delete those pictures - or better yet, tell him to come over so he could do it himself, and punch him in the dick for good measure.</p>
<p>Instead, he types: 'Hey.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's during one of these moments of contemplation that the message comes through, and John drops his phone in shock. He takes a moment to pick it up, look over the single word, then another ten minutes to wait for anything else. Any insults or threats or... anything. But nothing more comes, and after yet another ten minutes, he finally works up the nerve to reply.</p>
<p>'hey, i'm real sorry man. that was super fucked up!'</p>
<p>John winces and rubs his face again, climbing into bed to have some sense of security before sending the rest of his message.</p>
<p>'i kinda remember giving an offer to kick my ass, if you wanted to cash that in.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All things considered, he wasn't expecting John Egbert to fondle him in his sleep in the first place. Dirk had only ever met him in passing, but the impression he'd always gotten was that the guy was the token sheltered kid. Super straight edge. Some overprotective parents (just a dad?), most likely. Maybe that was just from the incessantly dorky vibes he let off like a beacon, though.</p>
<p>But the apology? That was something Dirk expected. John had some manners, however ass-backwards and twisted they were. It made him want to kick his ass a little less. Not that he needed to know that.</p>
<p>Dirk leaned back where he sat at his desk, fingers drumming on the surface to subtly portray his unease. While Dirk wasn't as angry as he should have been, he wasn't going to let him off so easy.</p>
<p>'I've been considering it. I hate to rob gold from the wank vault, but I'm gonna need you to delete those pictures. Now.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's telling, how much dread he feels at the order. John <em>knows</em> he has every right to ask this, and John has no claim to the images or the video, but that nasty little gremlin inside him wants to hoard the small collection, and even with the majority of his mind saying 'that's a reasonable request and I should absolutely comply', he still... hesitates. Stares at Dirk's message. Bites his lip.</p>
<p>'okay, yeah, you're right i should definitely do that. but what if i just delete the one with your face in it?'</p>
<p>God, he feels even shittier the moment he sends it.</p>
<p>'look, i'm already kind of kicking myself right now, the LAST thing i want to do is show these to anyone so if that's what you're worried about, i promise that unless you tell someone, no one will find out about it.'</p>
<p>It's a faulty argument, but he <em>really</em> doesn't want to delete these.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk blinks at the reply. Sure, he could see the frantic apology coming a mile away. But that one, he definitely wasn't expecting. Who did he think he was, inciting a fucking negotiation over his involuntary nudes? Fuck's sake, maybe John was more of an asshole than he gave him credit for.</p>
<p>Dirk was prepared to type out something along those lines, because he really wasn't appreciating the play of John's inexplicable fuckboy card. Hell, he knew he could even play this smarter, and tip this potential blackmail right on John's head, if he needed to. What would Dave say if he found out his best friend was a greasy palmed pervert? Dirk definitely wouldn't be hearing from Egbert again after that.</p>
<p>However, even with this problem's simple solution in sight, Dirk found himself still stunned by the boldness of the request. Why the hell did he want to keep them so bad? He taps a touch more into his intrepid curiosity. It couldn't hurt to get in this guy's head.</p>
<p>'What are you playing at, Egbert?'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John scowls down at his screen and rolls around on the bed because why was this conversation so difficult? Why would Dirk think he was playing at something, when he thinks he's made himself pretty clear.</p>
<p>'why do i have to be playing at something?'</p>
<p>Well. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?</p>
<p>'you're really hot and i like them. i'm not the kind of jackass to like. leak someone else's nudes, man. just... apparently the kind of jackass that gets handsy with people when i'm drunk.'</p>
<p>You're doing amazing, sweetie. Just keep digging that hole.</p>
<p>'okay. look. alright! can i at least keep the one with my face in it? if anything it's more incriminating for myself, and there's no way to tell it's you.'</p>
<p>He'd also really like to keep the video clip, but that might be a harder bargain to make. And John shouldn't even be bargaining.</p>
<p>'i'll... delete all of them if you tell me to. promise.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk's fingers had stopped drumming on the wood surface of his desk. He's staring at the screen, too focused on his phone to keep up the movement of his hand. There were a couple of minutes he passed that way, lost in a cyclical motion of thought. John did a creepy thing. That was a fact. John was, apparently, into him. That was also a fact. And Dirk... liked both of those things. That was the real fuckin' hang up in all of this, wasn't it? Something about the thought of John taking advantage of him was tying him mentally up in knots, and scratching a sexual itch he didn't know he'd had. And now, because he was a twisted, lonely fuck, he was obsessed.</p>
<p>It was just the matter of admitting it to himself. After nearly ten minutes, he finally responds.</p>
<p>'Fine. You can keep it.'</p>
<p>'And I will too.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The silence was horrible, and John considers deleting all of them and sending Dirk a screenshot of his camera roll, and another of their messages to prove it by the end of the ten minutes, unable to handle the lack of a reply. Just as he's hovering his finger over the delete button on the very first image, the messages come through. And... yeah, that makes sense. Definitely came across as a threat, but John was too relieved that Dirk was actually humoring him instead of like. Calling the cops or getting a restraining order or something.</p>
<p>'yeah that's totally fair, i mean you technically could keep them all since they're yours. i definitely don't want the picture getting out obviously but it's totally your call man! you're in control of this situation.'</p>
<p>He hopes that's enough, giving Dirk the control.</p>
<p>'just to make sure, uh. do you mean i can keep all of them or just the one?'</p>
<p>God, he was such a creep.</p>
<p>'also, are you going to beat me up?'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was another pause, but briefer this time. Despite the vast majority of his common sense begging otherwise, his dick had puppeted his brain long enough for him to make up his mind.</p>
<p>Dirk sighs. God fucking damn his desperate homosexual ass.</p>
<p>'John, listen. What you did was fucked. No arguing that one.'</p>
<p>'Fortunately for you, you did it to a particularly fucked up individual.'</p>
<p>'I'm not going to kick your ass. And I'll let you keep the nudes, on two conditions.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As if expecting Dirk to tell him no, John goes through the images, trying to commit them to memory during the time it takes him to reply. So it's a surprise when he's offered a deal on actually getting to keep them.</p>
<p>'oh. i mean that's probably not a good thing dude; two fucked up people collaborating can't be healthy for either of us!'</p>
<p>He quickly shoots off a random jokey emoji to break any possible tension from his statement, but John's starting to feel a little apprehensive about his tastes. Still, he feels he owes a hell of a lot to Dirk and he'd do whatever he could to make up for it.</p>
<p>'gotta admit, i'm a little worried right now, but considering i should like. fuck. i don't really want to think about what i deserve right now, so whatever, just name the conditions.'</p>
<p>Maybe they'd be typical young adult level things like 'shave your eyebrows and go out in public' or 'streak through a party' or some dumbass shit that would only be a blow to his ego. But he doesn't really get that sort of vibe from Dirk, so he clutches his phone in both hands, waiting for the axe to fall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk wishes there was a viable way for him to close his eyes as he typed. He already had his conditions written into the text box before John responded. He deleted them twice, and typed them right back out, both times. Despite his unerring display of confidence, Dirk mentally raked his decisions over the coals a minimum of a hundred times before committing. Acting like he knew everything and didn't give a shit about any of it was incredibly important to him, after all. He didn't want his gross curiosity to freak John out, which he realized was hilariously childish, considering their situation. In this case, that curiosity was the only thing keeping him from telling John to fuck off.</p>
<p>What did he have to lose? He pressed send.</p>
<p>'Don't do that shit again. To anyone, under any fucking circumstance.'</p>
<p>A moment's pause, before pasting his second condition and tapping the final send.</p>
<p>'Come over this Friday night at nine, and show me exactly why the fuck you're so committed to keeping my dick on your phone.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's already responding to the first message as soon as he reads the first three words.</p>
<p>'god, no, i kind of feel super disgusting and fucked up; way before you even texted me. i don't think i'm gonna do much drinking anymore.'</p>
<p>He manages a few more guilt rolls over his blankets, burying his face in his pillow before going back to the screen. He has to reread the next line of text several times over, and even then he's still not sure what's going on.</p>
<p>'dude. you don't have to be coy about wanting to stab me or kick me in the balls. i'm flat out offering you the opportunity here.'</p>
<p>Because what else was he supposed to believe from a message like that? Sure, Dirk referenced that he himself was pretty messed up, but surely Strider wasn't inviting him over to fuck around - that'd be insane.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>'I'm not being coy. I'm telling you, on no uncertain terms, that I'm not interested in kicking your ass. Sorry if you wanted the family jewels to be a martyr for your guilt.'</p>
<p>Dirk found an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. If he hadn't dated Jake, he wouldn't have thought that anyone could genuinely be so oblivious to an obvious proposition. Maybe Dirk had a type after all. Hm.</p>
<p>He got up from his desk, switching off his lamp and crawling into bed as he types out his next reply.</p>
<p>'You said you think I'm hot. And last time I checked, I wasn't the one to initiate your sloppy drunk tryst. So, I'm also telling you that you should put your money where your mouth is. Preferably while I'm conscious.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>'i would have wanted to kick my ass if i found out what you found out. you can't fault me for having a hard time believing you're not interested in it. and also having a hard time believing apparently you want me to come over and recreate our 'sloppy drunk tryst'. damn, dude, who talks like that. is this secretly rose? god that'd be just my luck, huh. rose, stop trying to set me up with dave's hot brother!'</p>
<p>Is it inappropriate to joke at a time like this? Definitely. But John's going through a bit of a crisis and he needs some humor to see him to the end.</p>
<p>'could you at least like. let me take you out or something first? or is that asking for too much? dating the guy who molested you while you were passed out probably isn't very high on anyone's list. fuck.'</p>
<p>'sorry.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk inwardly rolled his eyes at John's attempt at nervous humor, endearing as it was. Regrettably, the lack of an answer was only fueling his own nervous energy. What was he doing, even? Now John definitely thought he was a freak. The least he could do was let him down easy, right?</p>
<p>...Fuck, he felt ridiculous right now.</p>
<p>'Alright, casanova. Was that more meaningless rambling, or are you actually interested in taking me out?'</p>
<p>'There's no need to wine and dine. You've already been pretty closely acquainted with my junk. We could probably skip a few chapters in the courtship process.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well, his hamfisted attempt at asking him out didn't blow up in his face like he expected, which was certainly a plus. But now John's worried that maybe Dirk just wanted to fuck, so maybe asking for anything more would only increase the creep-factor.</p>
<p>'it might be pretty cool and also i think it's more along the lines of 'whoops i skipped a few chapters in the courtship process without your consent so if you're willing to let me make it up to you i'll double down on the previous steps'. if you're into it.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk didn't really know John that well. Dave seemed to like him well enough. But was that really enough reinforcement for the shitty, shaky foundation that their relationship had started off on?</p>
<p>He hadn't considered anything more than the sex, admittedly. The furthest he'd thought out this potential scenario was a solid hook up. After that, they'd be on even ground, and this weird love connection could be filed safely away into memory. Maybe for John, going out with him was an easier way to bandage the guilt.</p>
<p>'Congratulations. This has definitely climbed the ranks to become the weirdest fucking way a guy has ever asked me out.'</p>
<p>'Full transparency, man. I'm after your dick, not your heart.'</p>
<p>'But if you're seriously committed to the dating foreplay, I'll bite. Do your worst. Woo me, Egbert. Doki me the fuck up.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>'no, that's cool, honestly surprised you're into that much, to be honest. you're a kinky weirdo, and that's coming from me!'</p>
<p>Another shitty attempt at a joke. John sighs and finally dresses down for bed before trying again.</p>
<p>'i'll see you friday, strider.'</p>
<p>He thinks it's a good sendoff until a few minutes pass and he snatches his phone back into his hands.</p>
<p>'i don't actually know where you are, do you and dave stay together? on second thought, maybe you should just come over here. i wouldn't blame you for not wanting me to know where you live.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>'My sexually deviant streak is much better for you than the alternative.'</p>
<p>Dirk typed his response with his arm around an anime body pillow. The double back from John's rather confident send-off was admittedly sort of cute. That thought left him with the sudden urge to smack himself upside the face.</p>
<p>'Your place it is. Post-date, of course.'</p>
<p>He couldn't believe he was actually playing along with this. He should probably raise his standards off the fucking floor, at some point soon. But this leverage over John's guilty conscience was a power play that Dirk could definitely get behind. There were no malicious intentions, on his end. Teasing him was just a bit of fun that he thinks he's earned.</p>
<p>'Until then, try not to miss me too much.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>'you have a point there! but hold up, are we really doing the date then? i thought we were just going to get weird and then put this whole thing behind us and probably never talk to each other again. not that i want that! but i'm pretty sure i fucked up any chance at like. something decent i guess.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>'We're really doing the date. You dug this grave for yourself, Egbert.'</p>
<p>Admittedly, Dirk wasn't sure about it. He wasn't really the dating type, his history having him somehow stumbling ass-backwards into monogamy with fuck buddies until the novelty wore off. The scenario John presented seemed like a pretty fucking accurate prediction of their future together. The only difference was that John had been the one to bring up a date, and Dirk had every intention of going through with it, if only for the irony.</p>
<p>And, partially, to see John squirm. It was his own personal brand of justice.</p>
<p>'You're taking me out. I expect to be romanced. Then you can fuck me stupid, and pretend I don't exist afterward, if you're into that.'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>'okay, uh. i guess i'll pick you up from dave's at nine, friday then. unless you just want to meet up at the place.'</p>
<p>Well fuck. Now John had to decide on a good place for a date for Dirk Strider of all people, who he knew very little about. Would dinner and a movie be cliche enough to be funny, or just boring? Maybe he might like laser tag. It'd be a fun way to get both of them hot and sweaty beforehand, and the competitive nature would probably appeal to him. But he expects to be romanced! And that was definitely just sarcasm but John kind of wants to romance him!!! Now thoroughly unable to fall asleep, John agonizes over the decision, hoping he doesn't fuck this up more than he already has.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>'See you then.'</p>
<p>Dirk left his response at that, just enough to let John know that he'd read it. No need to seem too eager. Though, Dirk was feeling a very particular sensation of tingling anticipation. It was probably just the concept of inherently kinky sex that had him excited. He'd have a couple of days to let it simmer, and keep his cool.</p>
<p>Until then, he always had the nudes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Date night.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Their date! It starts off pretty bad. </p>
<p>I think this chapter is going to be a lot longer than the last one, since I'm breaking up the RP in sections based on our time skips, and I remember the date stretches out quite a bit. This also means that some chapters might be a lot shorter than others because fuck consistency am I right</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Those couple days for John absolutely were not spent simmering and keeping his cool. How he'd managed to turn a drunk groping into an actual date was beyond him - and he's sure 80% of was on Dirk's end because most people would have gotten him like... arrested or something by now. He throws out so many plans because he's determined to have an equal amount of serious date to dumbass date just so he can cover his bases and also give Dirk an idea of what he's getting into if he maybe would want to do anything afterward.</p>
<p>He finally settles on a nice dinner, not a huge fancy place but definitely a standard date spot, followed by some sort of arcade or game of some kind. After learning that the large mini-golf place on the other end of town is open until midnight, he sets his plan in motion. Thursday afternoon, he sends Dirk a text telling him to dress nice, but bring a comfortable change of clothes.</p>
<p>Once Friday rolls around, John goes into a cleaning frenzy that would make his father proud, meticulously going through each room of his apartment to make sure nothing could be gross or smell weird. It hardly looks like anyone lives there by the time he's showering and driving over to Dave's.</p>
<p>'Fuck,' he thinks as he knocks on the door. 'What am I supposed to say if Dave answers?'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luckily for John, Dave does not answer. He was holed up somewhere in his room after all of Dirk's metrosexual posturing had driven him far enough up the wall - sometime around when Dirk had been blow-drying his hair loudly in the bathroom while he was trying to mix.</p>
<p>Dirk had always been the type to go big or go home, and getting himself ready was no exception. Though, he supposed spending two hours in the bathroom showering and doing his hair probably didn't classify as '<em>going big</em>.' The point still stood, if only because Dirk didn't know when to stop fussing over himself. He'd even painted his fucking nails the night before.</p>
<p>When he heard the knock at his shared apartment's door, he had just finished stepping into his shoes and was giving himself a once over in the mirror. His outfit was obligatorily 'nice,' a fitted pair of dark jeans and a tucked dress shirt with two too many buttons undone. Dave always said it made him look like a tool, but Dave also dressed like he'd rolled out of a 90s Tiger Beat magazine, so his opinion was invalid.</p>
<p>Dirk grabbed the messenger bag with his 'comfortable clothes' (a sentiment that <em>immediately</em> piqued his curiosity when John requested it) to sling it over his shoulder, and patted himself. Phone, wallet, keys.</p>
<p>He pulled open the door.</p>
<p>"Hey. You made it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oddly enough, with his distraction of the worry that he'd have to explain to his best bud why he was taking out his brother, John didn't actually consider just how awkward it would be seeing Dirk again, after. Not until the door opens, and he notices how much work the other man put into looking good. He's sure his face is a few too many shades red to not be noticeable, but John shakes it off and gives an apologetic smile.</p>
<p>"Yeah. Sorry if you were hoping to be stood up I guess." The smile twists into a little smirk as he takes in his outfit, and John presses a fingertip to the top button that was actually fastened in his shirt. "Alright there, Fabio, you might wanna class up a little bit." He himself was wearing tan dress pants and a black double-breasted vest over his own button-up. Maybe a little too high-end for the first part of the date, but he meant it when he said he was going to double down.</p>
<p>"You got everything, then? My car's across the street."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Considering the ways Dirk had been indulging himself lately with the nudes on his phone, it was awfully weird to see John without a dick next to his face. The blush that was on his cheeks was a pretty nice substitute, though. He cleaned up nice.</p>
<p>Dirk gave him a once over at the thought, and yeah, actually. He did look pretty good, all things considered. A little doofy in that vest though, which pushed him over the edge of cute, rather than hot. Dirk would make very sure to tease him on it. Fuck him and Dave, both. His shirt was rad.</p>
<p>"Sorry, I wasn't aware we were meeting the queen this evening."</p>
<p>He shoulders his bag affirmatively, and makes a point of buttoning up exactly one button.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He rolls his eyes, but decides that one button was enough as he holds the door open awkwardly for him - it's always difficult to do when the door swings away from you. "Cool. Hope you're hungry." John makes a point of letting Dirk walk ahead of him until they reach the street and he jogs ahead to once again open the door; he's pulling out all the classics that his dad would approve of.</p>
<p>"You don't have any, like. Allergies or anything, do you?" He took a moment to call ahead and check if the place was peanut-free back when he was looking around for a good date spot. They mentioned that one of their deserts used it, and promised to keep the tools and utensils clean after every bit of contact for the time of his reservation, but John decides to keep his EpiPen in his back pocket and not order any desserts, just in case.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm allergic to whatever shit they put in Crush. Unless this classy joint uses orange soda for deglazing, I'll be fine."</p>
<p>Dirk inwardly smiled at John's double display of gentlemanliness with the doors. It was incredibly dorky to bring out the chivalry at this point. Embarrassingly, it actually did make Dirk swoon a little in a way he would absolutely never admit.</p>
<p>He slips into the passenger seat, his hand purposefully brushing John's ass as he steps past him. Anything to keep killing the classiness, he supposed.</p>
<p>"Am I allowed to ask where you're taking me? Don't want to ruin the surprise."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's not really like... high end, but whatever. Not some steak and wine place, just this nice place across town. Called Crockett's, like the one up near my old home. This one's a bit more private though. It's not exactly a surprise." The slight touch across the back of his slacks makes him jolt, spine going ramrod straight, but he doesn't call attention to it.</p>
<p>It felt too much like a test.</p>
<p>Once he climbs in the driver's side, he has that wonderful moment of wondering what to talk about now that they were alone in the car together. "You can just, uh. Throw your bag in the backseat, you won't need it until we're done eating." He's <em>itching</em> to ask if Dirk mentioned anything to anyone - about the date or... otherwise. But he bites down the urge.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk had felt the way John tensed at the hand on his backside, and it left him curious, if not a little flattered. Was he that nervous? He found himself discreetly eyeing John at the thought, leaning over the center console to set his bag properly in the back seat.</p>
<p>"I didn't think so. What's the deal with that? I hope for the sake of the public that you aren't planning on ravishing me filthy at the restaurant."</p>
<p>Dirk buckles his seatbelt, tipping his head in a way to indicate he <em>was</em> looking at him this time, since the shades did a whole lot to obstruct that.</p>
<p>"Though, I guess wouldn't put it past you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once they're both buckled in, John starts the car, checking for traffic before taking off. He only spares Dirk the occasional glance, not taking his eyes off the street for very long. "I just mean it's better for, like. Dates. Back home, all the tables were crammed together like a shitty cafeteria, and it was always packed because the food was so good. This place is supposed to be a little spacier, so the tables aren't so close to one another."</p>
<p>The gibe cuts a little deeper than John would have thought possible, and his lips press together, turning down at the corners. "Yeah..." His stomach swoops with the guilt, and suddenly he wonders - surprisingly for the first time - if Dirk was only doing this to mock him. "If Applebee's is more your style then, or maybe Texas Roadhouse, if you want to see me die from all the fucking peanuts everywhere. Would that be fun?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You're allergic to peanuts?"</p>
<p>Dirk somehow manages to focus on the least consequential line of conversation. And maybe it was because he noticed the way that his teasing little comment had knocked the wind straight out of John's sails. Despite his bullshitting, he didn't actually <em>want</em> to have a shitty night tonight. In his book, John wasn't entirely out of the doghouse, but he intrigued Dirk enough that it didn't really matter. He agreed to the date, after all.</p>
<p>And being vindictive was a little less fun when John sunk into that puppy dog eyed guilt.</p>
<p>"Regardless, I'm down with Crockett's. I'm just fucking with you, man. Relax. I already told you I'm not here to kick your dick in, or anything."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He doesn't take his eyes off the road this time. "Mhm. You know how to use an EpiPen? They don't have a lot of peanut stuff there but just in case, it'd be pretty cool if you could stab me with it. Even though you said you weren't interested in stabbing me." The irony is funny enough to make him laugh a little.</p>
<p>"Alright. I mean I'm not ignoring the possibility that you're just getting my guard down, or like. Looking for some good old public humiliation or something, but. I'd still like the chance to do something nice for you, and not just because I owe it, I guess."</p>
<p>The ten-minute drive starts to seem like it'll be a whole lot longer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I've never used an EpiPen, but I can make an educated guess. Stab you and press a plunger down, probably. Simple enough."</p>
<p>Dirk shrugs a shoulder, his eyes shifting to look out the window now that John wasn't giving him those darted little glances anymore. He hated the fact that a small, soft part of him was making him feel like the asshole in this situation. Which, he sort of was, when John had that painfully hopeful little inflection in his voice. The guy was actually trying to take him out, to make amends or whatever.</p>
<p>Ugh. God damn his bleeding heart, and the words he would probably regret later.</p>
<p>"I appreciate it. I know I'm busting your balls over what happened the other night. But it was nice of you to offer to do this. You don't seem like a total dickbag."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No plunger, it's automatic. Just take the cap off, and make sure you swing down hard, preferably around the thigh. Hold it there for a few seconds. Then, you know, call an ambulance because it's kind of just a temporary thing. It's also on the pen itself but, you know. Sometimes time and stress can work against you. And for the record, the cap is on the bottom - the orange end is the needle. That throws a lot of people off."</p>
<p>He can see Dirk look away in his peripheral, and there's another awkward swoop in his belly. But his words still bring a little dimpling smile. "I kind of was, though? Like. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking, I was just. Focused on the wrong things to be focused on. I'd blame alcohol but I was still sober enough to know what I was doing, and remember it." The foot not on the pedal starts bouncing anxiously.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Just go light on the peanuts, man." Dirk murmurs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. John's insistence that he knew how to save him from anaphylaxis was sort of silly. Good advice. Maybe not the best pre-date conversation, though. Points for cuteness.</p>
<p>"You <em>were</em> a dickbag. That's true. But it's not like an overarching character trait of yours, or anything. Doesn't seem like it, at least. Dave puts up with you, after all." Another shrug. "Maybe go light on the alcohol from now on, too. Sort some shit out, mentally."</p>
<p>Dirk smoothly ignores acknowledging his part in all of this - able to admit that what John did was wrong, but inexplicably agreeing to go on a date with him anyway. Now really wasn't the time to delve into the sprawling collection of his own psychological issues.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh yeah, you know me. I totally don't take my fatal peanut allergy seriously." John snorts, and when they hit a red light, he manages to fully look over at him. "Yeah, I already... don't think I'm gonna drink too much again. ... Sheesh, I'm scum, huh?" His face pinches down in a sad smile before Dirk is lit with green, and he resumes the drive.</p>
<p>"We're almost there, so. You know, if you get second thoughts, I'd prefer if it happened before we went in."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That smile did stupid things to his already stupid chest. It struck Dirk that this guy would be an incredible manipulator, if he had the heart for it. He'd bend over backwards to perk up that dejected smile. Dirk could have gagged at himself.</p>
<p>All of this because he got his rocks off to the thought of getting felt up in his sleep.</p>
<p>"John."</p>
<p>Dirk reaches over the gear shift to rest his hand on the other man's thigh, next to his knee, and gives a light squeeze. He couldn't meet his eyes now that the light was green, but it was okay just the same.</p>
<p>"Shut up."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He spares another glance, eyebrows raised, and has to snap his attention forward to keep from swerving when there's an unexpected hand on his thigh. He doesn't say anything for a few seconds, but the tension gradually leaves him, and the cheek-dimpling smile returns.</p>
<p>"Okay."</p>
<p>He pulls into the parking lot a few minutes later, shutting off the motor and turning to stare at his date. "So will you stay there long enough for me to get the door, or would it be a wasted effort to run around the car?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"There it is."</p>
<p>Dirk squeezes his thigh again, satisfied (John had a nice smile), before deciding to keep his hands to himself to avoid John killing the both of them via vehicular manslaughter. Though, they were in the parking lot just a few minutes later, so in retrospect Dirk could have pushed his luck.</p>
<p>He unbuckles his seatbelt, but doesn't move just yet, tipping his head to look at John. He makes a show of very slowly settling his hand on the door handle. He doesn't open it.</p>
<p>"Please. With my lightning-fast reflexes, your gentlemanly wiles would be completely lost."</p>
<p>Which actually, wasn't untrue, in theory. Semantics.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"There <em>what</em> is?" he murmurs, not really expecting an answer and still not really sure what to do about the squeeze. But thankfully Dirk pulls away and they arrive safely. He watches the other man unbuckle, watches him rest his hand on the latch, and John stares.</p>
<p>He has an idea that's absolutely stupid and embarrassing, but. How the hell can he turn down the challenge? So he slowly unbuckles himself, mirrors Dirk's pose, then shoves the door open, sprinting up to slide over the hood of his car with an awkward laugh, eyeing up a couple leaving the building who no doubt saw his stupid display, and rushes to see if he managed to surprise Dirk enough that he didn't open his own door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk had fully intended to be out of the car by the time John circled over to him, but he only managed to open his door a crack before he stopped. He watched John throw himself haphazardly over the hood of the car, actually catching him off guard. There was a smile tugging at his lips that he did his best to force down. Jesus, this guy was a dork.</p>
<p>Dirk nudged the door open the rest of the way, but offered his hand for John to help him out of the car as a consolation prize. He didn't really need the gesture, considering he wasn't hopping out of a truck or crawling from a limousine in heels. But what was he supposed to do, brush off John's admittedly adorable efforts completely? Absolutely fucking not.</p>
<p>"Nice moves, Egbert."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He knows he must be very red, and hopes the dim lighting in the parking lot hides most of it as he adjusts his clothes and walks around the partially open door. It kind of looked like Dirk might be smiling, though, so he takes the blow to his dignity a little better and rests Dirk's hand in his, needlessly helping him out like some classy fucker assisting an equally classy dame or something. He's not thinking very clearly with the murmuring coming from the nearby couple who are staring as they head to their truck.</p>
<p>"Y... yeah. Thanks." He at least closes the door behind him, using the fob to lock the car and hesitating only a moment before letting his hand drop. Dirk didn't seem the hand-holding type, and he didn't want to be creepy. "Uh. After you?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk simply pockets his hands when John drops his. Ouch. It spurs on a brief moment of horror that he'd been reading this all wrong in the first place - maybe John wasn't into the wining and dining thing after all? People held hands on real dates, didn't they? John probably just wanted to fuck him after all. It was kind of an abrupt hint, but Dirk was a big boy, and he could take the rejection. No big deal.</p>
<p>Was he spiraling over this? He was probably spiraling over this. Bring it back, Strider. You can overthink later.</p>
<p>He shakes off the heavy wave of doubt for now, keeping his pace even as he leads the way to the entrance of the restaurant. He doesn't hold the door for John this time, aside from the typical way you do when someone's behind you.</p>
<p>"So. Reservation?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He regrets not jumping ahead for the door, but there's being polite and then there's being overbearing, and he's occasionally had trouble differentiating between the two, "Uh-huh. I mean. There's no like, fancy tables or anything, but the place can get pretty busy, especially on the weekend, so. I thought it would be better to make sure."</p>
<p>He shrugs and pushes past Dirk to the little podium where an employee is waiting, then gives his last name, with an awkward reminder of the allergy. They nod and wave the two of them in a direction toward the back of the restaurant. John smiles back at Dirk and offers his elbow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, wait. Maybe Dirk was under-thinking this. John offered the date because he felt bad, right? Obviously. But he was also the one that had felt him up in the first place, and admitted that he found him attractive. Jesus, what if John was way more into him than he was letting on? Was this, like, a stalker situation? Was Dirk more into it, if it was?</p>
<p>Yeah, no, definitely not. That's a little too far, he thinks.</p>
<p>John didn't want to like. <em>Actually</em> date him, did he? Was there some sort of unspoken implication that this would be a reoccurring thing? Christ, Dirk just wanted to have sex with this adorable guy that made morally uncool choices when he was drunk. Why the hell did he let his morbid curiosity lead him on a first date?</p>
<p>...Dirk just takes his fucking elbow, instead of standing there any longer.</p>
<p>"How thoughtful of you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The longer it takes Dirk to respond, the worse John can feel his insides twisting. This definitely was a bad idea - he should have just done the mini-golf. Or, damn, maybe just have done what Dirk wanted in the first place and screw around, then avoid each other. John opens his mouth, almost asks if he wants to call it off, but then he seems to snap out of whatever had him stuck in his own head, taking his arm.</p>
<p>He turns and follows the server without a reply, only speaking up again to thank the employee when they're at their table and handed menus. "So... do you want to share an appetizer? Or skip to the main dish."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Appetizers were probably more typical with dates. Gives people more time to sit around and get to know each other. Though, if they ordered the entree first then they could...</p>
<p>Dirk sharply cuts himself off, lest he zone the fuck out again and leave John without a lifeline. Maybe put some of these words in your head to use, Strider. Less thinking, more talking. You do know how dates work, don't you?</p>
<p>"Appetizer's fine. Whatever you want. We'll split the bill."</p>
<p>He almost leaves it at that, before mentally cracking his knuckles. Date conversation. Right. He could do this.</p>
<p>"So you're keeping the nudes."</p>
<p>Great.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Nah, I'm buying everything. No budge on this one, Strider." He's still in the mindset of keeping this as brusque as possible, get it over with quickly because <em>obviously</em> it was a bad idea, so he doesn't look up over the menu at him. Appetizers would be nice. "I'm good with anything but the calamari, dude, so take your pick."</p>
<p>He's halfway to lifting up the glass of tap water to take a drink when Dirk ventures into his version of smalltalk, and John's so fucking happy he didn't have anything in his mouth, or it might have been a spit-take.</p>
<p>Instead, he sets the glass back down and sighs, fishing out his phone and unlocking the screen before sliding it over. "Fine, delete them yourself man. I don't really care anymore, if it's going to make things even weirder."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Artichoke dip it is." Dirk mumbles the words to himself, before he's breathing a sigh through his nose. He almost beat himself up over his terrible smalltalk, but fuck's sake, what the hell else was he supposed to talk about? They were in this weird limbo where they should be long past the <em>tell me about yourself</em> phase, and Dirk was awful at forcing that shit.</p>
<p>He was excellent at being a jackass, apparently, though. He pushes the phone back to John without touching a thing.</p>
<p>"I told you that you could keep those. A deal's a deal, man. No need to be so touchy."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Then why would you ask? Why aren't <em>you</em> more touchy?" John's voice lowers to that 'I'm starting to freak out in a public place after keeping a firm lid on my shit but I really don't want to draw attention' tone, and he throws up his hands. He picks up his phone and scowls at it before making a point to show that he's clearing the chat history between them, and deleting the one he saved to his camera roll.</p>
<p>"I'm tired of it hanging over my head, so there." And he really does feel better, if the slightest bit contrite with the loss. "Artichoke dip it is." He waves the server over before Dirk can say anything - if he would - and places the order for appetizers, asking for a little more time to choose the rest of their meal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk immediately retreats inward when John snaps at him, busying himself with looking over the menu. He wasn't really reading it though. It was actually, seriously starting to sink in that this was a bad idea. Not even just the date, but believing that he could somehow talk to John ever without shit being weird. It was always a difficult adjustment period when Dirk remembered that other people weren't as socially inept and weird as himself.</p>
<p>No shame, though.</p>
<p>"If that makes you feel better." A pause, his eyes still on the menu, voice still as aloof as ever. "We don't have to do this. Any of it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Woof</em>. Way to go John, buddy. He runs a hand through his hair, then again, mussing it but uncaring because his hair was too thick to look that controlled in the first place. His knee starts bouncing again. He can't sit still, fidgeting with his shirtsleeve and the hem of his vest.</p>
<p>"...Okay."</p>
<p>John finally takes that drink from his water glass, scrolls aimlessly through his gallery for a couple seconds, and tries again. "I'm... really sorry. I should've just done what you wanted to do instead of trying to turn it into something else."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk glances up from his menu briefly, his eyes landing on John from behind his pointy Kamina shades. He looked nervous.</p>
<p>"Then why didn't you?"</p>
<p>The words themselves might have sounded accusatory, if it weren't for the fact that Dirk didn't sound very attached to them one way or another. It was a front, of course. That was a question he'd been wanting the answer to from the second John tried to cut a bargain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John's too busy scowling at the wall to notice (or not notice, with those glasses in the way) Dirk looking at him.</p>
<p>"I don't know."</p>
<p>He chews at his lower lip before finally turning back to the other man.</p>
<p>"Why did you want to do it?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Which part? Have sex with you, or go on a date?"</p>
<p>Dirk murmurs, his eyes dropping right back to his menu when John's eyes left the wall. He knew he couldn't see him, but he had a feeling that eye contact right now would make his face warm, and he couldn't have that.</p>
<p>"I've found that 'morbid curiosity' is an excellent summary for both."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His face tightens, and John picks up the menu again, clutching it with white knuckles. "Cool. That's cool." Obviously. It wasn't some sort of interest in him after all - they really were both just kinda fucked up. John takes a breath and relaxes again, pasting a placid smile on.</p>
<p>"I'm gonna get the lamb chops. You ready to order, or do you want me to take you home?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm still interested in going through with this. But it's not about what I want at this point, is it?"</p>
<p>Dirk lifts his eyes briefly, having mentally settled on some random fish dish that his eyes kept sticking to when he was avoiding eye contact. Not anymore, though. He pushes his shades into his hair with a measure of delicacy.</p>
<p>"Do <em>you</em> want to call this off? I'm really not into bullying you into spending the night with me, man. We're even. It's all good."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It kind of is, Strider. The whole- well, no. <em>Most</em> of the point of this is to make it up to you for me being a sleazy bastard, and you don't seem all that into it."</p>
<p>He folds the menu neatly and rests it on the edge of the table for one of the employees to grab whenever they made their way over.</p>
<p>"We're definitely not even, man. I'll do anything you want me to, if I can. Since apparently you're not really into accepting nice things. Just tell me what you want. Please?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk stacked his menu on top of John's, managing to avoid responding until their waiter returned to take their orders. Though, the silence was back just as quickly as it had left, hanging heavy around their table.</p>
<p>"I know that I <em>want</em> to hook up with you. I wasn't expecting you to ask me on a preliminary date beforehand." Honesty is important, Dirk. "It was weird of you, and it caught my interest. It would ease your conscience, too. Win, win. Still, though. No offense, but I don't know you, man. And we didn't get off on the best foot. Sort of hard to ease into a dinner date just like that."</p>
<p>Another brief pause. "You're a hard guy to read, Egbert. But I'm here now. So why don't you let me get to know you? Regardless of the fucking circumstances, and the both of us being weird as shit with our own motivations."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course he couldn't give a solid, obvious answer. John does his best to seem normal as he places his order, hoping the tension at their table wasn't readable, and when he finally turns back to Dirk, he does the slightest little double-take, surprised to see his glasses pushed up. John has no idea what that's meant to convey, so he doesn't comment or stare.</p>
<p>"That's such a difficult request, man. Makes it feel like a job interview - you can't just ask someone like that. That's probably why we're doomed here; to get to know someone you gotta spend time with them, and we're already off to a... pretty bad start, I think, and it's not feeling like it's getting better. I think I might have rightfully blown any chance of getting you to trust me, so a date was a pretty dumb request, huh. Do you just wanna go play mini-golf so we have something to do other than sit here awkwardly and eat? It might be a better, like..."</p>
<p>He waves his hand around in the air, glances across the quiet restaurant. "... Atmosphere."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The date idea was stupid, yes. Not really sure what you expected from me."</p>
<p>It felt like a weight was lifted off of Dirk's shoulders. It was pretty fucking obvious that Dirk was socially inept, and it really didn't help that getting John to relax was like pulling teeth. He wasn't lying when he said the date thing was weird. In retrospect, Dirk probably should have just stuck to his guns and insisted on a casual fuck. But he agreed, and he wasn't expecting <em>John</em> to be the one to squirm about it, after he'd wanted it in the first place. Now he was left with this mess of awkwardness and feelings.</p>
<p>Dirk had planned to just feel this situation out - roll with the romancing and see what John wanted from the date. Now it was a lot more complicated.</p>
<p>"Mini-golf sounds good. Unless you'd rather cut to the chase, and take me home with you. I feel like this whole pseudo-courtship thing isn't your style."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John scrubs his hands over his face for a few seconds.</p>
<p>"That's the thing, though, I don't <em>want</em> it to be pseudo! I kind of do want it to maybe be a thing! But I'm pretty sure it's not gonna happen, right?"</p>
<p>He nudges their menus until they're stacked neatly on the table and thinks that he might be okay with just hanging out with Dirk once in a while, but deep down he knows that he can't be sure if it's because he <em>likes</em> Dirk, or if he just feels bad enough that he wants to be on good terms with him to get over this guilt.</p>
<p>He thinks it might be a bit of both, but he was right when he said they didn't know each other.</p>
<p>"I dunno, man. The fate of our night is in your hands. I gave you the options, you gotta pick."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk stares at him for a long moment. There was an uncomfortable sensation prickling up his spine at John's confession. He was suddenly feeling a little too exposed, and dropped his shades back over his eyes.</p>
<p>Eventually, he stands up from the table, offering his hand to John. He didn't offer any sort of clarification on his intentions.</p>
<p>Though, it was pretty obvious that he agreed with John that an awkward dinner date wasn't the place to be right now.</p>
<p>"Let's just get out of here."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's an odd mix of relieved and disappointed when Dirk pushes up from the table, and John nods before checking his pockets and pulling out his wallet. "Hold up... do you have something to write with?"</p>
<p>He shakes his head when he finds a pen in the centerpiece of the table and scribbles the word 'TIP' in big bold letters on a napkin, before placing a twenty next to it.</p>
<p>Once he's got that done, he takes Dirk's hand, squeezing it as he casually jogs for the entrance. Once they're outside, he smiles over at him. "I've never dined and dashed before. Even if it was just the appetizer. You know, technically I just gave over 100% in a tip." He wiggles his eyebrows at his 'date(?)' as though that meant something.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk huffs a laugh through his nose, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips.</p>
<p>"You trying to seduce me with that thick wallet of yours, moneybags?"</p>
<p>Dirk doesn't release his hand as they leave the restaurant or cross through the parking lot, but eventually lets him go once they reached the car. He doesn't bother playing into John's previous gentlemanly act, opening the passenger door himself once the car was unlocked.</p>
<p>"Now let's go. I know I promised not to kick your ass, but unfortunately that mercy doesn't carry over to destroying you at mini-golf."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm just saying, people who tip big are pretty sexy. Nothing hotter than someone who treats waitstaff like people, dude." Despite an effectively failed date, John's starting to feel pretty good. Especially when Dirk doesn't let him drop his hand - maybe he made a mistake to assume he wasn't the hand-holding type earlier.</p>
<p>He groans good-naturedly when Dirk gets his own door but doesn't bother making a scene about it, climbing in on his side and buckling up. He waits for the decision, honestly expecting Dirk to want to skip the rest of the date, so he's surprised into another smile when he's threatened via mini-golf. "Hell yeah. You can <em>try</em>."</p>
<p>He was <em>really bad</em> at mini-golf.</p>
<p>"It's about a five-minute drive from here. You wanna take control of the radio or something?" He figures music would be better than their awkward conversation as he pulls out of the parking lot, but he wouldn't mind talking either.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>God, this already felt so much better. Whatever they had going on in the car before their first stop on this date disaster was good. Comfortable. Casual.</p>
<p>But this time, it was without the imposed sexual tension Dirk had sort of forced his hand at. And without the uncomfortable romance that John had forced <em>his</em> hand at. Sort of like starting over. They would probably have to have a real conversation about how they met at some point. But Dirk wasn't about to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory when it came to salvaging this date that John (<em>and he</em>, let's be honest) wanted so badly.</p>
<p>He could roll with this.</p>
<p>"No CDs?" Dirk buckles up and pokes at the radio, letting himself relax. "I'm surprised that Dave's hipstery music purist shit hasn't rubbed off on you. He insists it doesn't sound the same without the disc."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John tilts his head back for a deep guttural groan. "Fuck. Don't get me started on Dave and music, man." He smiles a bit, fond but also <em>done</em> with it, as he thinks about his friend. Then he thinks about the fact that he was fooling around with his friend's brother, and he doesn't know what to feel.</p>
<p>"It's like a two-song long drive anyway, I'm not gonna get picky and start digging around for something specific. As long as it's not a talk show, I'm good with anything."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk hums, settling on some edgy alternative station that he immediately tuned out in favor of looking out the window, drumming his fingers idly on his thigh. He briefly wondered if John had mentioned their date to Dave. Probably not, all things considered. Dave was too nosy for his own good, and easily could have stumbled his way into finding some shit out that he really didn't need to hear.</p>
<p>"Anything, huh? That's a dangerous sentiment, man."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's not really feeling the station choice either, so he turns it down just a little, to use as ambiance instead of actual music while he drives. John beats his own fingers on the steering wheel, not taking his attention away from the road once this time.</p>
<p>"Hm. That sounds kind of like a threat, Strider. You gonna follow through? We've only got a few minutes before we're there, so you better act quick."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Defiant and diabolical as he was, he'd never been one to back down from a challenge.</p>
<p>Dirk wordlessly turns the volume right back up, and with an alarming amount of practiced ease, switches the radio to a country station he had memorized. It might not have riled John into spouting rabid and pretentious dissertations like his brother, but if the music didn't get him, the ear-piercing volume definitely would.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He watches Dirk lean for the radio out of the corner of his eye, mouth quirking. But it doesn't shift into a full smile until his ears were blasted with twangy guitar and warbling vocals. John tries not to wince when a particularly high note rings throughout his skull, because if Dirk could take it, so could he.</p>
<p>It's a little harder to concentrate on the road after then, but John does his best, even making his fingers tap out to the beat as he chews his lip. When there's a lull in the music, he calls over casually. "Really embracing your roots, huh? I'm proud of you dude. Only a true Texan could enjoy this."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk watched John as he drums his fingers in time with the beat, like a real fuckin' champ. Admittedly, the music was hurting his own ears in more ways than one, but fuck if he was ever going to be the one to give in. Especially when he only had to endure it for a couple more minutes.</p>
<p>"You don't know the half of it, darlin'." Dirk hikes up his accent to an absolute caricature of his usual cadence, a small smile curling up his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John huffs out a laugh, and hopes the street lights passing overhead don't make the flush spreading across his nose and cheeks too obvious. "Yeah? You gonna get a dog and a ten-gallon hat and move into some shitty ranch house in the middle of nowhere, then? Just sit in a rocking chair on your porch all d-"</p>
<p>He has to slowly raise his voice and then cut off altogether as the volume picks up again, and it makes him shake his head and smile a bit more, but he's sure Dirk got the point. Instead of trying to talk any more, he lifts a hand off the wheel and points to the glowing sign of their destination, just down the road.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk chuckles softly to himself, completely obscured by the music just as John was. He noted the little blush on his cheeks, resisting the urge to reach out and brush his thumb over it. It was pretty cute, though.</p>
<p>Instead, he leans forward in his seat to look at the flashy neon sign of the arcade. He'd seen this place before, in passing. Though, he'd never actually been inside. Who would've thought the first time would be for a first date with John fucking Egbert. He speaks up, regardless of the whiny country ballad mostly drowning him out.</p>
<p>"I hope you're ready to get wrecked, Egbert."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hears enough, and as he pulls into the parking lot, he shoots Dirk with a sly, devious little grin, opens his mouth to almost say something along the lines of 'Only if you're ready to get wrecked later on,' before deciding it might be too soon for jokes like that. So he just shuts off the car, ending the damn cacophony bouncing around in his head so he can mutter a "We'll see, dude," in the silence.</p>
<p>He unbuckles and climbs out after snatching a backpack, walking to the front of the car and checking to see if Dirk was following or if he expected John to get the door for him. He shakes the strap of his bag to remind the other man. "We can change in the bathroom."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The silence was almost just as deafening as the music when John switched off the car, his ears ringing at the sudden juxtaposition. He briefly noted to remind himself about the radio still being on to avoid shitting himself when John starts up his car later tonight.</p>
<p>Dirk followed John's lead and grabbed his messenger bag from the back seat, slinging it over his shoulder as he hops out of the car. He meets John at the hood, glancing at the chainlink fence separating the back of the golf course from the parking lot. It looked mostly like a maintenance area, pretty horribly lit with a couple of dumpsters.</p>
<p>When he speaks up, it's like he didn't hear John.</p>
<p>"This place charges an entry fee, right?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On seeing Dirk already halfway out the car, John decides to just wait as he checks his pockets. Phone, wallet, EpiPen - though that last one could probably be tucked into the bag at least. He's still a bit hungry though, and the cheap food they serve in the arcade could have been processed with nuts, so he'd at least take it in with him.</p>
<p>When Dirk joins him, John doesn't realize he's leaning toward him just a bit. "Mmm, yeah?" At first, he expects Dirk to do something like offer to pay, which John absolutely will not allow. Then he glances over to where his attention is.</p>
<p>He narrows his eyes, thinking, surely not? But Dirk also didn't seem to hesitate at the idea of just walking out after ordering food. "Dude... we'd still have to get balls and clubs. I think they'll notice."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"They won't. Just act like you belong, and you'll be fine. It's a putt-putt course, not the embassy. Besides." Dirk shifts his eyes back to John, not actually realizing how close he was standing. He only falters for a split second, though. "Where's the fun in getting in the easy way?"</p>
<p>It was probably like ten dollars, really, and Dirk wasn't a cheapskate. Just an adrenaline junkie with a rebellious streak. He could thank his absent father for that one.</p>
<p>He takes John's hand, already leading him towards the chain-link fence. Climb a dumpster, hop a fence. Easy as pie. It's like this place was begging for it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You're a bad influence, Dirk. How will you explain yourself to my father when he asks just what went wrong?" John tsks, putting on enough of a show to hide how pleased he is that they're holding hands again.</p>
<p>He's kind of a sap.</p>
<p>"Dude seriously though I think they'll notice; there aren't a lot of employees this late at night. And we still gotta change!" But John doesn't resist, following easily. "And I wanted to get something to <em>eat</em> since we didn't even get the artichoke dip."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Relax, babe." The pet name slips out without his permission, but he does his best to play it off. He was a cool guy that said <em>babe</em> colloquially now. No big deal.</p>
<p>"We'll change back here. It's dark enough. And I'll buy you some nachos after, or something. We'll just sneak into the... food place, too. Whatever. I've never been here before. But if it's anything like any other place in the world, no one works this late aside from punk ass teenagers that wouldn't give a shit if you committed arson at the 18th hole, if it meant they got to end their shift early."</p>
<p>Dirk releases John's hand briefly once they were at the fence, and he climbs on top of the dumpster with the practiced ease of a raccoon. He holds out his hand to John.</p>
<p>"Now shut up and trespass with me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The pet name <em>definitely</em> draws John's attention, but he decides it'd be wise to not say anything right now. He didn't know if that was a casual thing Dirk said, so making a thing about it might seem weird or clingy or something. John <em>does</em> laugh at Dirk's solutions, though.</p>
<p>"Cool, great, let's add public nudity to the list. I thought <strong><em>I</em></strong> was the pervert in this friendship, dude." He watches the other man with a smile, not that ashamed to admit he's admiring the shape of his body as he climbs onto the dumpster. "God. Why can't we just be regular law-abiding citizens?" But he of course takes that hand, not relying on Dirk too much to pull himself up - he'd hate to accidentally yank him off the dumpster, being the heavy fella he was. "Want me to throw you over?" Just the act, even knowing no one was around, makes John lower his voice, shoulders hunched in his approximation of a stealthy pose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Just because you <em>could</em> toss me several feet doesn't mean you <em>should</em>, tough guy. I got it."</p>
<p>Dirk smiles a bit at John slipping into this stealthy persona that was entirely unnecessary. It was cute. He gives his hand a parting squeeze before he was taking the messenger bag off of his shoulder and tossing it over. He straddles the pole of the fence, swinging his legs over and hopping down onto the gravel below with the grace of a man that's hopped a lot of fences in his day. He speaks up in a whisper, already unbuttoning his (cool) shirt.</p>
<p>"Come on. Get over here, and add public indecency to your list of misdemeanors."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The mental image of throwing Dirk like one of those log tossing competitions comes to mind, and John snickers, shoes skidding over the lid of the dumpster as he clambers up to the fence. He absolutely knows his landing will be much more obvious than Dirk's, so he tosses his backpack down with a sigh, intending to land on it to muffle the sound.</p>
<p>"Can't believe you, Strider. You're gonna get us thrown out." He smiles down at him, but immediately averts his gaze and stands on the lid when he notices Dirk starting to undress.</p>
<p>He figures there's no reason for him to try and slink over the fence, so (with some straining) he manages to get his foot on the pole before jumping over and landing with a grunt. His backpack is stomped down into the gravel, but at least it didn't make much noise. He immediately sets on undoing his admittedly too-tight vest, relaxing with a sigh once it's open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk sort of wants to help John when he jumps down, but the only outcome he could picture is getting himself crushed into the ground under John's clumsy weight. Which, admittedly, wasn't the <em>worst</em> thing that could have happened. But he didn't want any bruises just yet. Dirk resumes undressing once John made it safely to the ground.</p>
<p>"I'm not getting us thrown anywhere, dude. We're going to commit a little crime, have a nice night, and save twenty bucks in the process."</p>
<p>He shrugs off his shirt before working on his pants, toeing off his shoes long enough to push his pants down his thighs, and off his legs. He was left only in a snug pair of black boxer briefs as he dug through his bag for his other outfit. And yes. He'd purposefully done this to stay as naked in front of John for as long as possible.</p>
<p>"Now I know why you wanted to change so bad. The buttons on that vest of yours were only holding together with wishes and a dream."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His lingering guilt only allows John to side-eye Dirk long enough to see him kick off his shoes, before he turns his back to continue on his own clothing. "Shut up, man, I'm a big guy. There's only so much constricting clothing I can handle and I <em>definitely</em> didn't want to golf in it, okay? Also fuck you, it's really well made. It can hold."</p>
<p>He drapes the vest over his shoulder and starts working on his top, one hand fingering the buttons while he bends to shake the dust off his backpack. As soon as the zip is undone he contemplates his vest with a scowl before rolling his eyes and folding it, placing it carefully inside before tugging his button-up out of his pants and doing the same. He still has a thin undershirt on and his dress slacks when he turns to see how far along Dirk is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm teasing. It looked good on you."</p>
<p>By the time John finally turns back around, Dirk had given up on getting John to stare at his naked body (it was kind of cold, so it didn't take much, really), and was pulling on a pair of ripped light wash jeans. He'd taken plenty of time to watch John undress himself, though, which is why he catches his eye when he turns around. He wasn't able to wink with the shades, so he pokes out his pierced tongue at John instead, still shirtless.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Mmh... thanks." He knows he's red when he catches Dirk watching him, but he sticks his tongue out right back, not hiding how his eyes linger on the stud. It was dumb to play coy, to be shy when they were probably gonna fuck after this, so John drops his bag at his feet and reaches back with one hand, clutching a fistful of his undershirt and shucking it off with one fluid motion. He stuffs it into the bag with no ceremony, then pulls out a loose cotton shirt and wiggles himself through it.</p>
<p>The slacks are stripped off as well, his phone and wallet pushed into the pockets of a basic pair of shorts once he gets them on. "You know I figured we'd just put the bags back in the car when we were done, but..." John shrugs and eyes him wryly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We'll just leave them here. Go out the same way we came in." Dirk murmurs, staring at John's torso for the entirety of the quick change. It was short-lived, but a nice view.</p>
<p>Dirk shoves his clothes haphazardly into the messenger bag, fishing out his own phone and wallet as a cautionary measure. Probably not the best idea to leave them in the alley with his clothes. He slips on a cropped t-shirt, taking care not to fuck up his hair in the process, and shoulders a worn leather jacket to combat the chill.</p>
<p>Once he was set, he drops his bag into the gravel as if in demonstration, stepping closer to John. "That good for you?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John's not sure what to make of the leather jacket or the way it makes his belly feel tight, so he just lifts a shoulder and glances out at the course. "Seem risky, but apparently that's what you're into, so whatever." He at least nudges them closer to the fence, near a corner and as out of sight as they could possibly be.</p>
<p>"If that EpiPen gets stolen dude, that's like five hundred bucks because CVS is out." He intends it to make Dirk nervous about his risky decision, but doesn't really believe they'll actually have their stuff stolen. "Or I could help you back over the fence and give you my keys." He doesn't expect him to take the offer and instead holds out his hand. "Buy me some fucking nachos, dude."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Just put it in your pocket, you dork. They might keep peanuts near their radioactive orange cheese."</p>
<p>Dirk takes his hand, going the extra mile to thread their fingers together. He raises a brow at him, over the rim of his shades. There was a teasing smile ghosting over his lips as he looked at John. He leaned a little bit closer, almost conspiratorially.</p>
<p>"If we even get that far. Nachos aren't for cowards. Are you being a coward, John?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He grunts, wants to argue about how awkward it was to keep it on him at all times because it was a <em>big tube</em> and sometimes his pockets just weren't made for that, but John still leans over, not letting Dirk's hand go, and digs around in the bag so he can grab it.</p>
<p>His eyebrows raise, but he only squeezes his hand tighter now that their fingers were interwoven, and he returns the curve of Dirk's lips with a little one of his own. "Dumb of you to think a coward would get this far in a date with you, dude. Being a voice of reason isn't the same as being a wimp. Let's go play mini-golf, <em>you dork</em>."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk spares a momentary glance to John's lips after he grabs his EpiPen, briefly considering laying one on him. Now wasn't the best moment though, and there'd probably be a lot more pay off if he waits. Keep 'em wanting, Strider.</p>
<p>He pulls back with a chuckle, keeping his grip on John's hand as he leads the way around the small maintenance building, towards what looked to be the 9th hole of the course. Sort of an awkward place to integrate, but he could work with it - retrace their metaphorical steps back to the first, get some clubs and balls.</p>
<p>"Alright, my righteous voice of reason. You want your nachos first, or your mini-golf?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stays close to Dirk, using their clasped hands to brush their arms together from time to time as they casually stroll through the course like two fellas who just so happened to forget their stuff - maybe they could play it off as wanting to get a look first, or act like lovestruck idiots who thought for some reason a mini-golf arcade would be a nice place for a romantic walk.</p>
<p>"Probably golfing first - less interaction with staff, which means it's less likely we'll get called out. Best way to get more bang for our metaphorical buck."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Now you're thinkin' like a rebel." Dirk murmurs, tapping his fingers in a random rhythm against the back of John's palm. "Alright. Ass whoopin' first, then nachos as a consolation prize. Got it."</p>
<p>Dirk plays his role well once they reached the counter, coming from the wrong direction quite fucking obviously. He doesn't offer an explanation, and the guy doesn't ask. In all honesty, Dirk just got incredibly lucky that his predictions were right, and the employee didn't care enough to bust his balls. Not that he'd tell John that, of course.</p>
<p>Dirk hands John a short club and an orange golf ball once he had his own, looking pretty self-satisfied as he snatches some tiny pencils and a scorecard.</p>
<p>"There. Easy as pie."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John laughs and squeezes Dirk's hand, little pulses that try to sync up with his fingers. "Damn. I wish I was good enough at this game to argue but you're probably going to destroy me and no amount of false bravado will save me. That's what I get for not catering to my strengths. Maybe. Maybe next time, huh?" He doesn't know if there will be a next time, and he hopes Dirk didn't catch the little stutter, the slight hesitation.</p>
<p>He stays silent through the transaction at the counter, relaxed as ever, only breaking his smile when Dirk hands him a short club and knowing he can't argue. He does swap his ball out for a blue one before following him to the first hole. "You wanna show me how it's done then, Tiger?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah, next time. You can take me to a log throwing competition or something, with those guns of yours."</p>
<p>Dirk saves John from the slight question in his words. He wasn't sure, entirely, if there'd be a next time either. But John was sort of growing on him by the second. He wouldn't count it out.</p>
<p>He takes the rejected orange ball, tossing it idly in one hand before leaning to set it on the tee.</p>
<p>"For now, though. Watch and learn."</p>
<p>Dirk swings his club, and it was... pretty much a standard shot. It didn't fly into the water, but it wasn't a hole in one. He'd get a birdie, if he didn't fuck up his putting. Dirk wasn't exactly a savant at mini-golf, but he knew how trajectory worked, and he was well and fucking determined to beat John. Dirk wasn't good at not being good at things.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He smiles, does an experimental flex - he might be strong but he wasn't the kind of asshole who pointed it out at every chance he got - before rolling his eyes. "Sure, dude. I mean I was thinking Smash or something but if you want to see me throw wood around, alright."</p>
<p>He'd probably beat his ass in Smash, too, but it'd be fun at least.</p>
<p>John gives him the most condescending look he can manage, leaning on his club and raising his eyebrows as Dirk took his shot. "Not bad, dude." If he couldn't win by conventional means, then it was time to be underhanded. "I mean. Yeah. It was okay. We goin' every other shot, or are we waiting for each of us to get in before the next person starts?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Smash. Right. Go ahead and shoot your shot, Eggs. Keep the playing field even, so to speak. I'd hate to keep you waiting, even if it's only for one turn. I know you'll need the extra time for when you exceed par."</p>
<p>Dirk teases, grateful for his shades during one of the many moments he was racking up of staring at John's muscles. He was fun to play against - had an attitude that fueled his competitive spirit, and offered him eye candy too.</p>
<p>Dirk stepped along the rocks lining the strip of the first hole, standing next to his ball as John prepared to putt, watching him intently. Maybe a psyche out attempt.</p>
<p>"Show me what you've got."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The trash talk forces a laugh to bubble up out of his chest, and John shakes his head, <em>really</em> regretting his choice now. "I mean, laser tag was my first choice for this. Probably should have gone with that." He smiles at Dirk for a moment, lips pursed, before dragging his club over to the little tee mat.</p>
<p>And he's not <em>terrible</em>, but shortly after his first putt, he knows he's absolutely going to lose, and his whole plan changes. John hums as his ball slows its path, off-angle and several inches behind Dirk's. "Alright, showoff. End it, then."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I don't know, man. I'm an agile dude. Pretty fast. Laser tag could have been equally disadvantageous for you."</p>
<p>Dirk felt himself smile in his typical, almost there and almost not sort of way at John's laugh. He was doing something right, and that was making him feel... things.</p>
<p>Dirk keeps up the cockiness and very much does end it, lining up his shot picture perfectly, and giving just enough of a tap to hit it in. He had absolutely no intention of letting John pity win, bleeding heart or no. Maybe he was a little ruthless when it came to competition. It was probably fine, though.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes John three more shots to sink it, and he sighs as he marks the numbers down on the scorecard. It's all for show, of course - winning was nice, but he'd never had that streak in him that made him competitive enough to the point where he didn't enjoy the game or the time spent with the other person. And he had the advantage of knowing he was going to lose early on, so he could just focus on the company and hope Dirk wasn't the type to gloat in a mean-spirited way.</p>
<p>Teasing was fun and everything, but no one enjoyed a sore winner. He scoops his ball out of the hole, along with Dirks so he can pass it over. "I'm not <em>that</em> far behind yet. And I dunno, agility is good but you've also gotta have stamina for laser tag." He smiles as he holds the orange ball out. "And I don't think you've got much of that."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn't mind waiting for John to sink the ball, cooing out a couple of teasing remarks, but not really giving him that hard of a time over it. If John was this bad at all of the holes, Dirk would win by a landslide. It was kind of cruel to keep the competitive dynamic so fierce if they weren't neck-to-neck, after all. Less fun. He could win in peace this time, unless John was a secret master of putt-putt.</p>
<p>Dirk took his ball from John's hand, letting out a good-natured scoff as he starts for the second hole, keeping pace so he could walk at John's side.</p>
<p>"I've got plenty of stamina. How would you know?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm just saying, man. You've got like no body fat, but you're still fit. It's a good way to <em>look</em> good, but it's kinda unhealthy to have that much muscle without a little softness. You're like... a dwarf in Lord of the Rings, or whatever. Natural sprinters, but shit at long distance stuff. Right?"</p>
<p>John doesn't actually know - with his luck, Dirk's probably inhuman levels of perfection or something.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That's not..."</p>
<p>Dirk actually sputters, whatever words he'd been attempting to say dying on his tongue and collapsing into nonsense. He feels his face grow warm at being read so fucking easily. Christ, since when did John have a spyglass aimed directly at his physiological makeup?</p>
<p>Dirk focuses on lining up his next shot, embarrassed, instead of letting John see him start to crumble with his freckled red cheeks on stark display.</p>
<p>"Whatever. I'm concentrating on our actual competition, instead of this metaphorical one."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That reaction, that... break in Dirk's composure <em>does</em> something to John. His pulse quickens, heart hammering in his chest, and he doesn't really know why. Or well. He has an idea of <em>why</em>, he just. Doesn't know why it's so strong. John knows his expression is smug, but he's just as flustered when he catches up and tries to get a better look at the reaction on Dirk's face.</p>
<p>"Sure, man." He taps a hand over his chest for good measure, enjoying the thin layer of fat over his pecs. Then his expression twists, no longer smarmy. "What were you <em>expecting</em> me to say? Something creepy about your dick?" He waits for his turn, moving around as soon as Dirk's out of the way, placing his ball.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I don't know. Maybe. Probably. It's not exactly creepy if we're on a date - a scenario that gives you an all-access pass to dick remarks."</p>
<p>Dirk very purposefully does <em>not</em> look at John, lightly waving his hand away, because he knows he'd have a smug ass grin on his face, and he has no intention of laying his eyes on it. He follows his ball as it rolls instead as he waits for John to putt, and for the warmth to fade from his face.</p>
<p>"You can't tell me you weren't setting yourself up for innuendo with the word <em>stamina</em> in your phrasing."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I don't think that's how dates typically work. I think it'd still be creepy, considering the circumstances."</p>
<p>He eyes Dirk's ball, licking his lips and adjusting his angle. He wasn't going to win, but he could sure as hell be an annoying little shit instead. "... Maybe. But stamina could be about a lot of things." He takes his sweet time setting up the shot before slamming the club into his blue ball, sending it flying into the orange one with a loud clack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"If you say so. I personally don't think--"</p>
<p>Dirk cuts himself off abruptly when John hits his ball directly into his and ruins his next shot, looking absolutely <em>scandalized</em> at John's fuckery for a split second. His golf ball bounces its way into an awkward little corner that would leave Dirk no doubt having to perform a balancing act on bricks just to wedge it out.</p>
<p>He narrows his eyes at him, a half-smirk forming on his lips.</p>
<p>"So that's how it's going to be, huh? You want to play dirty."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The smile on John's face can only be summed up as 'impish' and it only widens, showing off more teeth than necessary when Dirk reacts. His eyebrows bounce up, and he leans on his club again, using it as a cane with one hand on his hip.</p>
<p>"Did you really think I'd behave? Tsk. We really <em>should</em> get to know each other. Your move, Strider."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk couldn't tell if he wanted to punch or kiss that snarky little grin off of John's face, but he thinks it had to be around a 30/70 ratio. He swings the club in his hand up to smack into his opposite palm.</p>
<p>"Alright, Egbert. You want a real game, I'll give you one."</p>
<p>It takes Dirk two shots and nearly a sprained ankle to get out of the hazard, balancing wide on the short brick barrier as he putts his ball away from the wall. Fuck that thing he thought about an easy victory.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There's a split second where John's eyes widened, genuinely believing he's about to get his shit kicked in with a putt-putt club (which, honestly, would have been hilarious). He jogs over, a little anxious when Dirk insists on standing on the brick wall like that, but as soon as he seems like he knows what he's doing, John continues to try and fuck him over.</p>
<p>It's not anywhere as effective as that first shot, because he's too busy laughing and not taking enough time lining things up, but he at least routinely manages to get his ball in the way.</p>
<p>"Bring it on!" He knows he's probably loud enough to draw attention their way, and he <em>tries</em> to keep it under control, not wanting to be the reason they get kicked out after being so sure Dirk would.</p>
<p>During his first shot on the next hole, John 'accidentally' nudges him as soon as he swings the club. "Ohhhh man, I'm <em>so</em> sorry!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk doesn't seem to mind their increased rowdiness as John takes every opportunity to ruin every easy shot Dirk lines up. He was doing an excellent job of making himself a hazard, spiking the difficulty from easy to infuriatingly difficult. Dirk actually feels a petulant sort of genuine frustration at first, but quickly realizes he's being an idiot, so it fizzles out. John was just teasing, after all.</p>
<p>Dirk still wanted to win, though.</p>
<p>After the nudge, Dirk's ball hops the brick and putters to a stop on the sidewalk, fully off the fake grass of the course at this point. Dirk whirls to face him, butting the grip of his club into John's stomach.</p>
<p>"Alright, that's straight-up cheating, and you know it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John chomps down on both lips, hands coming up in a placating manner when Dirk turns toward him. He grunts good-naturedly when the handle is jabbed into his belly, and rubs it with a slight smile.</p>
<p>"Ah, come on. You're gonna win no matter what. At least let me have some fun." He shrugs and steps over the brick, bending low to scoop the ball back up so he can return it. "The only difference it makes is it'll make you work a little harder. I thought you dug a challenge." He's not actually sure if Dirk's mad, though, and after the disaster of a dinner they attempted, he doesn't want to ruin this as well, so he keeps his distance, letting them play the hole normally.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk nearly sighs before catching himself, because John had a perfectly valid point. He <em>did</em> dig a challenge, after all. Dirk finishes off this hole, walking backwards to the next as he speaks to John.</p>
<p>"Alright. So the conditions of victory have changed. You want to make me play as awfully at mini-golf as possible, and I need to combat that with sheer willpower and skill?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John, being the difficult tease he is, only shrugs his shoulders and follows a couple of feet behind, eyes flicking down every so often to make sure Dirk isn't about to trip. "Nah, man, you wanna win the legit boring way, you got it. You'll beat me by at least two strokes on each hole, then we'll go in and eat nachos, then leave. The perfectly normal, predictable way to play mini-golf."</p>
<p>John rolls his ball over his palm in little circular hand movements, not letting it roll out of his hand. "Whatever you want, Strider. I won't cheat anymore."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No. What? That's not what this is anymore, this stopped being normal mini-golf the second you punch buggyed my fucking ball into a brick ass crack. You're cheating, and I'm finishing this fucking course."</p>
<p>Dirk knew that John was being oblivious on purpose to get under his skin, and it sort of made him want to take that blue ball from his hands and toss it into the water.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Nothing's stopping you from finishing, dude! If you're so hung up on me screwing you over we can just take a, uhhh. What's it... A Mulligan on the last few holes; you can get your clean perfect score." John lifts his arms in a lax shrug, making a big show of turning back the way they came.</p>
<p>He doesn't know why he wants to get under Dirk's skin so badly, especially with this whole outing meant to be an apology, but... Fuck, he can't help it - it was so fun watching him get flustered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em>No</em>, you jackass. It's not about the fuckin' score. Those holes are done. Finished. We're moving on." Dirk steps behind him, grabbing his bicep to turn him around, pointing towards the little wooden bridge that led to the other half of the course.</p>
<p>His lips were pursed and his words were adamant, because god damn it, even if John was fucking with him, it was <em>sort of fun</em>. Dirk liked seeing him get so giddy over playfully sabotaging his putts, even if it meant that Dirk took ten strokes longer to get his stupid ball in the hole.</p>
<p>"Just finish this damn course with me, Egbert."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Something about messing around with Dirk makes him feel like a teenager again - that age-old anxiety of 'am I being funny or annoying?' rattling around in his head before Dirk takes his arm and points him to the next hole.</p>
<p>John eyes the hand for a moment, then flicks his eyes up to Dirk's face. "... I mean, if you're so eager to get royally fucked over, who am I to argue?" He almost slips his arm around the other man's waist, but aborts it halfway and gives him a little pat on the small of his back instead. "I'm gonna make this take an <em>hour</em>."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk lets out an exasperated little sigh, but seems sort of sated and calmed by the touch of John's hand on his lower back. Regardless though, he shoves his hand into John's face, using the leverage to push him away gently. Partially because the way John was looking at him was doing funny things to him.</p>
<p>"That's the fate of your nachos you're playing with, Egbert. Not mine."</p>
<p>Dirk starts over the small bridge for the next hole, mentally preparing himself for at <em>least</em> another hour of John's fuckery.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John leans his head away with a scowl and a muffled 'Muhhh-!' but he's back to his little smile as soon as Dirk's hand is out of his face. "I'm willing to make that sacrifice." As if to punctuate the statement, John gets up <em>real</em> close behind him - mostly to just be there if his next dumb idea goes wrong, but ostensibly to be as frustrating as possible - then hooks the curve of his club in front of Dirk's ankle.</p>
<p>The man was speedy and graceful, but John hopes he's unexpected enough to at least get him to stumble, keeping nearby in case he has to grab him if the worst happens. The water under the bridge wasn't deep, but it was <em>nasty</em>, and he wouldn't even do that to someone he didn't like.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk doesn't spot the club as it catches his ankle until it was too late. He loses his balance with an aborted noise of surprise, managing to catch himself on the railing of the bridge, and save himself from busting his face on the ground. In the effort of stopping his fall, though, his golf ball drops from his hand, bouncing once on the curved arch of the bridge before plopping unceremoniously into the water below.</p>
<p>God damn it, John.</p>
<p>Dirk narrows his eyes at John, cheeks tinted with that same red as before, and swings out his club once he wasn't in danger of falling any more. It smacks John hard in the thigh with the blunt end, Dirk not actually intending to hurt him, but get some decent retaliation.</p>
<p>"I hate you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John grips the back of Dirk's top when he actually slips, but once he seems safe from actually falling, he has to smack a hand over his mouth to hide his grin. "Shit, man... I'm so sorry." And he does feel bad, but it's probably not believable because he's also snickering.</p>
<p>His jaw drops with a little 'ahaha!' of both laughter and pain when the club smacks him, but he's too busy staring at the flush on Dirk's face. "You're real cute when you're embarrassed." John smirks and drops to his knees, staring up at him for a moment before he falls into a crouch, threading an arm through the railing. He supposes it's his fault, so he should retrieve the ball. "God, nasty..." His fingers slip into the slimy water and he roots around before pulling out a neon yellow ball and laughing in surprise. "Shit. I don't suppose you're determined to get your actual one, are you?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Neither John's words or his laughter did anything to curb Dirk's embarrassment - if anything, his face got redder. He was momentarily placated by the sight of John on his knees in front of him, a tugging in the back of his mind reminding him to sexualize literally everything, always. He folds his arms over his chest. Still kind of wanted to hit John with his club again, though, especially after that 'cute' comment.</p>
<p>He watches John fish around in the gross water for the ball, leaning over the railing slightly with his hip braced against the wood. His brows quirked up just slightly at the appearance of the other ball - there had to be a whole collection of them under this bridge, no doubt. Which was exactly why he refused.</p>
<p>"Actually, as a matter of fact, I am. Keep fishing."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh son of a bitch, I thought so." And even though it's a condemning order, John still laughs and shoves his hand back in the water. He scrapes his fingernails against the concrete bottom, digging up algae or slime or <em>something</em> and it makes him groan. "Damn, not my fault you're just bad at handling balls." He snorts and shakes his head. "That was stupid. Low hanging fruit, my b."</p>
<p>He manages to pull up three more colored golf balls before finding an orange one, setting them all on the bridge in a potential offering to the place in case they get in trouble somehow. "Next you're gonna tell me you memorized the exact placement of the logo and this isn't it, huh?" But John stands and shakes off his hand, holding the ball out. "I don't suppose you have a pint of hand sanitizer, do you?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk rolls his eyes, but can't resist a smile at the dumb balls joke. He watched as John fished out three more balls, all snarky and ridiculously endearing, and it was hard to get that smile off his face. Dirk pushes off the railing once John was on his feet again, taking the now wet orange ball from him.</p>
<p>He takes an immediate step back though - he knew exactly how John worked now, and he was <em>not</em> about to let him wipe his gross hand on him. He offers him the useless scorecard instead.</p>
<p>"No. But you can wipe your algae hand on the scorecard."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John makes a mournful sound, using the edge of the card to scrape away the worst of the slime and flicking it back into the water. "I should have just run back to get you a new one, I <em>hate</em> this..." He knows he could also run in to wash his hands, but he also doesn't want to stop this momentum they've got building.</p>
<p>"Just... give me fifteen minutes to wash my hands before you get me those nachos." He winces and shakes off the remaining wetness, but can still feel the thin coating of whatever it was that was in the water. "Wow I hate this. You're lucky I like you, because I'm not putting this hand anywhere near you for your sake. It's so nasty, Dirk!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk couldn't hold back a small laugh at John's misery, taking another step back so he was completely off the bridge at this point, and a good distance from John. The red was still lingering on his cheeks, but it was fading quickly, thank god.</p>
<p>"I like you too. Which is why I'm doing us both a favor when I say that I don't trust you, and I'm keeping five feet away from you at all times until we're done with the game."</p>
<p>He holds out his club, as if to keep some of the distance measured between them.</p>
<p>"Don't pass this threshold, and we'll be golden."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holding his arm out awkwardly because he doesn't want to touch any of his clothes, John scoffs. "Wow, that's totally the best way to have a date. It's like we're at a school dance with a chaperone who takes their job too seriously breathing down our necks." He slaps the club away absentmindedly and follows Dirk to the next hole. If he wasn't allowed to get close, it was time to buckle down on becoming a huge obstacle.</p>
<p>"I stank up my arm for you, dude. The least you could do is say 'thanks'." He hates moving the hand and feeling his skin tug uncomfortably, almost feeling starchy somehow, so he nudges his ball into place on the mat with his foot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Them's the breaks. You were the one that caused the stank in the first place by tripping me. But sure. <em>Thank you,</em> John, for rectifying your own mistake."</p>
<p>Dirk teases him, and has the decency to feel a little bad at how thoroughly grossed out John is by his own hand, to the extent of not even using it to set up his ball. They'd have to wrap up quick, for the sake of him not pulling his arm off.</p>
<p>When Dirk takes his turn, he actually manages a hole in one somehow, and feels an embarrassing little surge of pride. <em>Skills.</em> He offers a self-congratulatory look at John, tucking his club under his arm as he walks along the bricks to scoop his ball from the hole.</p>
<p>"Nice. Things are looking up, now that your hand is gross. Maybe I should be thanking you after all."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John gives a celebratory whoop at the victory, but it's short-lived once he realizes it means he can't mess with him. So he shoots a churlish glare at him and sighs as he actually attempts to play. It takes four strokes, which is par for once, but that wasn't the point anymore.</p>
<p>"Here, mark down your rad score I guess." He holds the scorecard out to Dirk again, damp-side facing him. "And don't rub it in."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk watches him as he offers the scorecard, brows raising above his shades. Taking score, <em>and</em> meeting par? Getting a hole in one was way less exciting than it should have been, and that was entirely because John didn't get the chance to screw his shots all up.</p>
<p>Dirk takes the scorecard by the corner, pinching it almost delicately between his index finger and thumb.</p>
<p>Then, he crumples it. He ignores the lingering wet paper sensation as he shoves it in the pocket of his leather jacket, and takes a few steps backwards from John. He takes his club back into his hand from where it was tucked between his arm and his side. He points it at John again.</p>
<p>"I'll race you to the 18th hole. Final showdown. No scorecards. Whoever sinks the ball first wins the whole cup."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He watches Dirk take it like he's afraid of it, then his face lights up in a grin when it's completely discarded. "Oh, no. How will we find out who wins?" As though he's not like twenty strokes behind. He laughs again at Dirk's insistence on being a club-length apart, this time grabbing the end and jiggling it a little.</p>
<p>"Oh damn- Wait you mean like-" His eyes widen, then narrow, because if Dirk <em>doesn't</em> mean what he thinks he means, then that gives John a solid chance to use the loophole. So he smirks and holds his ball out, glancing at their next hole. "You're on, Strider."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I mean exactly what I said. No rules. No restrictions. Whoever's ball is in the 18th first, wins."</p>
<p>Dirk taps his golf ball against John's with a hollow <em>tink</em>, a small smirk rising on his face to mirror John's.</p>
<p>"We'll see who has no stamina."</p>
<p>With that last, teasing little remark, Dirk is off. He slips the end of his club from John's grasp and turns on his heel to sprint, ignoring the readymade pathway weaving between each hole altogether. He leaps over a decorative and entirely fake boulder, taking advantage of his head start.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh my <em>god!</em>" John has just enough time to shout in mock outrage before he's darting after Dirk, eyes flicking from each little plaque at the start of every hole in the hopes that he can parse the layout and get an advantage to make up for the cheap move. "And you called <em>me</em> a cheater!"</p>
<p>Thankfully, the only ace he has in his sleeve is knowing that the last hole is usually close to the start, so he heads in the opposite direction, stomping loudly over the bridge (and scooping up the spare balls because he's a nice person damn it). He leaps over the old holes, almost faceplants when his heel grazes the brick divider that he barely manages to clear, and has the final hole in his sights. He spins his head around, trying to spot Dirk to see if he's any closer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk laughs quietly to himself at John's betrayed shout, but he doesn't look back. He also doesn't hear him pursuing behind though, so he must have been taking an alternate route. It was smart - because Dirk's route wasn't really suited to anyone less squirrely than he was, carving as close to a straight line as he could through the course to run directly to the 18th hole.</p>
<p>He climbs and leaps over the landscaping and hazards as he runs, cutting through the holes haphazardly. He's on the last sprint between the last three holes when a poor landing leads to him getting one of his feet completely fucking <em>soaked</em> in the gross pond water surrounding the flagged end of the 16th hole. It throws off his rhythm a good bit, letting out a disgusted groan as the gross water sinks into his sock and pant leg. It's at this point that he spots John, and wow, yeah, he must have backtracked, because he got here awfully fucking fast.</p>
<p>Dirk wouldn't make it in time - turns out taking the regular path instead of scaling the course like a jungle was a good strategy - and his only real chance to make the shot was to throw his ball. He tosses it from just past the divider of the last two holes, and it bounces close enough to land on the green. It doesn't sink, and Dirk practically throws himself onto the fake grass of the last hole to try and push it in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There's a loud, deep <em>sploosh</em> from nearby, followed by Dirk sounding absolutely revolted, and John hollers out another laugh at the realization. He shouts "Karma!" before realizing Dirk is closing in. He surprisingly seems to have the lead here, and John clutches the blue ball in his grip tightly, planning on slam-dunking it in the hole when he realizes Dirk is rearing his arm back.</p>
<p>His jaw drops in shock, and he kicks in a last burst of speed in the hopes that his aim was bad enough.</p>
<p>When he spies the flash of orange on the fake feltlike material, he whoops again, knowing and not caring that they might be drawing a lot of attention to themselves. But then Dirk is scrambling onto the hole, reaching for his ball, and John howls, grabbing his legs with a wince as his nasty hand touches a nasty pantleg, before dragging him back. "Noooo!" As soon as he can, he winds his arm around Dirk's stomach, trying to hoist him up while at the same time kicking his own golfball toward the opening.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk writhes like a feral cat as John wrenches him away from victory, only just managing to nudge his ball before he was entangled with him. He probably would have hissed if that weren't ridiculous, and lets out grunts of effort as he attempts to break from John's strong hold. He watches in horror as John kicks the blue ball towards the hole, going completely still for a split second.</p>
<p>John's golf ball bonks into his, knocking it completely away from the hole, and totally out of his reach. Dirk practically growls, starting to struggle again in John's grasp.</p>
<p>"Fuck!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John doesn't stop laughing the entire time he has Dirk in his arms. It's hard to keep up with the wild movement, repeatedly reaching up to grab whatever flailing limb manages to break from his hold, fumbling and almost falling onto his side at one point.</p>
<p>He nudges his ball again, but only manages to push it away, and John forgoes that plan for trying to stuff his shoe into the hole, hooking his toes on it and finally getting his whole foot in, blocking it up. It's then that he releases Dirk, still holding onto him with one hand as the other arm scrambles for his ball.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk smacks the remaining hand away, scrambling to his feet as he quickly closes the distance between himself and the still rolling orange ball. He snatches it up and whirls to drop it in the hole, only to discover it completely blocked by John's whole foot.</p>
<p>He pants softly as he stands over John, looking an absolute fucking <em>wreck</em>, his hair all wild and out of its perfect styling, leather jacket slipping off one of his shoulders completely. At the very least, they were at an impasse - John couldn't take out his shoe without Dirk having just as equal opportunity to steal the win. He huffs out his next words breathlessly.</p>
<p>"I said first one with their <em>ball</em> in the hole, John."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's curled on his side, chest heaving as he catches his breath and smirks up at the mess he's made of Dirk. God, he looked good. Like, obviously he was hot when he was all put together, but breaking the composure of someone who had it in spades was pretty fucking sexy, in his modest opinion.</p>
<p>"No shit- but now we're at a stalemate, huh." He slowly curls his hand around his ball, wishing he'd done something sly like grabbing Dirk's, or tricking him into taking his instead. That'd be damn funny, but he's not in any position to be sneaky right now, with Strider staring down at him and waiting for an opportunity.</p>
<p>His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he glances behind Dirk at the counter. The jaded employee who gave them their clubs is watching. "Huh... We have an audience." The very second Dirk looks as though he <em>might</em> look away, John is curling in on himself, ripping his foot out of the hole to try and slam the blue ball into it before Dirk catches on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk searches John's eyes, something about the way he looked at him giving him the impression that he was being checked out. Or maybe it was just that coquettish little smirk on his face that tugged at Dirk's loose ends and swirled a bit of heat in the pit of his stomach.</p>
<p>Dirk shouldered his jacket properly, his shaded eyes not leaving John's. Though, he could feel the prickling sensation at the base of his neck that came with being watched. Now really wasn't the time to get kicked out - they still needed to make a nacho stop. His head tipped just slightly, starting to glance over his shoulder, when he saw a dart of movement out of his peripheral vision. He'd been fucking had, by a dumbass Egbert trick.</p>
<p>Which meant <em>he</em> was the real dumbass here.</p>
<p>Dirk throws himself back on the ground, but his ball sinks into the hole a split second after John's, his victory right along with it. He lets out a groan, shoving John's shoulder so he falls onto his back on the faux grass. So much for a perfect round of mini-golf.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His victory isn't as satisfying as the game had been, so his pleased little 'woo!' is nowhere near as energetic as previous reactions. He wiggles on the grass after he's shoved down, smiling and laughing quietly to himself while Dirk does whatever it is Dirk does when he loses.</p>
<p>John also follows up with the spare balls, listening as they rattle down the long tube that took them to wherever the collection place was. "Fuck. That was fun, I didn't think I had a chance." He heaves a sigh and looks at Dirk, tugging on his jacket. "You look good when you're all ruffled, man. Seriously." John's clearly not uncomfortable with the fact that he's lying on a mini-golf course in the middle of the night. "Now my nachos get to be victory nachos instead of a consolation prize... Nice."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah, yeah. You won fair and square. I'm man enough to know when I've lost."</p>
<p>Dirk murmurs, the sting of his loss pretty dull, all things considered. It was good that John wasn't the type to gloat, despite the fact that Dirk had been bracing himself for it. He cards his fingers back through his ruined hair in an effort to salvage the style, getting back to his feet. He offers his hand to help John up.</p>
<p>"Let's go get your nachos. Regardless of what you say, I'd really appreciate the chance to fix the rat's nest my hair tangled into while you wash your gross hand."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I mean I think we both know you'd have won if we played for real." He politely offers his clean hand, once again lifting most of his bulk himself despite this time having the urge to pull Dirk down on top of him. "What about you? Wanna change again, or is it too risky with the employee watching us?"</p>
<p>He stands and smiles, eyes shooting up to said 'rat's nest'. "Your hair looks good like that, though. Besides, it's a cheap arcade at like almost eleven. No one really worth impressing." John doesn't let go of his hand, squeezing it, but he's not gripping it tightly enough that Dirk would have to wrench it away or anything. "Also, I hate to break it to you dude, but I'm not about to let you be the only person to actually pay for anything on this date that was my idea to begin with. But I still appreciate the thought."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk briefly considers his uncomfortable squishy shoe, before shrugging a shoulder. It was disgusting and terrible, but he could hold out until they left. Maybe he'd sucker John into letting him take a shower at his place later.</p>
<p>"I'll be fine. I'll just fix my hair, which is still an important endeavor. Considering the fact that I'm on a date, and have someone to impress standing right the fuck in front of me."</p>
<p>Dirk almost considers not throwing in that last part, for the sake of keeping up with his not-giving-a-fuck persona, but thinks better of it. There was a big difference between being cooly aloof, and being dickishly aloof - and he wanted to let John know without a doubt that he very much gave enough of a shit about him to want to look nice. He keeps John's hand in his as he leads the way through the exit of the golf course.</p>
<p>"Anyway. Come on. I'm buying. I've said that from the beginning."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The smile on his face visibly softens, red cheeks probably looking patchy under the shitty lighting of the course. "I <em>did</em> say I thought you looked good like that, but hey, I'm not going to argue if you wanna look nice just for me." John winces down at the quiet squelch coming from Dirk's shoe every time he took a step. "I'd say you'd be better off barefoot but like... Mmm, probably don't go barefoot in an arcade, who knows what sort of nasty fungus is hanging around. You can wear my shorts and I'll switch into my dress pants, if you want."</p>
<p>He follows Dirk blindly, not looking at anything but his date and trusting him not to be led into a wall or a pole. "Yeah, and I planned on not letting you pay for anything from the beginning, so suck it." They pass the counter, and John finally looks away, giving the employee a big smile as they return their clubs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk feels a little smile of his own tugging at his lips as John stares at him so unabashedly, and laces his fingers with his. He shakes his head.</p>
<p>"That's nice of you, but it's fine, dude. We don't need to make an alley detour right now - it's hard to play that shit off a second time."</p>
<p>The employee glances up from his phone, taking the clubs from the two of them and mumbling something about having a great night. Dirk leaves a single trail of wet footprints as they start for the inside of the arcade, briefly considering the effect of his own wet shoe on the fungus growth in the 80s retro carpet. He swings their hands idly between them as the sound of pinball and bright electronic sound effects from the arcade cabinets reach his ears.</p>
<p>"The nachos are like three dollars, so I think I can let you take the fall for it this time."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John smiles down at their hands, swinging them and brushing his thumb over Dirk's knuckles as he pinpoints his main goal - the bathroom sign down the far hall. He waves with his stink-hand at yet another exhausted employee (this one actually manages a customer service smile for them, but the eyes are empty) before dragging the two of them down toward the door. He hopes no one calls them out for the sodden prints they're leaving behind.</p>
<p>"Thanks, man. And we can stuff some paper towels in your shoe while you're fixing your hair - you can take them off in the car if you want."</p>
<p>He gives Dirk's hand one tight squeeze before releasing him and jogging to the sink, absolutely filling his palm with soap and scrubbing almost up to the elbow. "Get comfortable, because I'm about to do this five times."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I think if I take it off, it's going to make it worse."</p>
<p>Dirk regards his shoe with tentative concern, before eventually just caving and taking it off. He balances on one foot as he pours out some water from the shoe into the sink, grimacing. The <em>one</em> time he elected not to wear his fucking combat boots.</p>
<p>He steps back into his still wet shoe after the addition of paper towels, shaking off the shudder that overtakes him and doing his best to just ignore the wetness from his left knee down as he waits for John to finish scrubbing his arm. He briefly washes his hands too before he starts to fiddle with his hair, tilting his head at various angles as he resculpts it.</p>
<p>"I'll take you up on that. And I'm taking a shower when I get back to your place. It feels like pond scum is seeping into my skin."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"God, yeah, I'm still a little sweaty too. A shower sounds good. You uh. You get first dibs, though. Don't envy having that shit creep up your leg." After his fifth and final wash, John does a sixth, normal hand wash, then uses up probably half the stack in the towel dispenser to dry himself.</p>
<p>"Alright, dude, your hair looks great. Are we splitting the nachos, or can I get you something else? Or maybe some fast food or something on the way back?" He sidles up right beside Dirk, shoulders touching, as he smiles at the two of them reflected in the mirror.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk glances at John through the mirror once he scoots up to his side, running his fingers through blonde bangs in a vain attempt to get them to cooperate with the rest of his hair. He considers extending the offer for John to just shower with him, but keeps that to himself.</p>
<p>"Just the nachos are fine," He says, finishing with his hair in favor of turning his head to look at John directly, rather than through the mirror. They were pretty close like this. "Unless you're determined to finish them all yourself that is. I wouldn't want to impose."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turns as well, smiling up with an eyebrow raised. "I'm a big boy, Dirk. And I'm hungry. Two orders of nachos it is." John slips his hand into Dirk's without pulling away for a moment, just enjoying the closeness. He wonders if the other man would be okay with maybe kissing a little, but even though Dirk's made his plans after this pretty clear, John still feels like trying to kiss him would be a little pushy. Besides, an arcade bathroom wasn't exactly the most romantic location.</p>
<p>So he steps back and tugs a little on his hand, heading for the door. "Ready?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'll buy my own, then."</p>
<p>Dirk searches his eyes as John takes his hand, silent in the moment of closeness. He wasn't close enough for Dirk to close his eyes, lid them in anticipation, but enough that the next step seems like it was hanging in the air between them. Until it wasn't. He smoothly conceals his disappointment when John doesn't bridge the distance to kiss him, following after him instead and giving his hand a light squeeze.</p>
<p>"Sure. Let's go."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Tsk. That's not the point, man." He uses the grip on Dirk's hand to pull him a little closer, then finally works up the balls to lean against him, arm slipping behind Dirk and around his back. He's barely up to the taller man's chin, which, after years of being grumpy about it, John can finally admit that he likes it. He could rest his head on Dirk's shoulder if he wanted to, and neither of them would have to stand awkwardly to allow it.</p>
<p>When they reach the counter, John's already got his wallet in his hand, holding out a ten with two fingers as he asks for two orders of nachos with everything they had on it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk feels a gay little flutter in his chest when John slips his arm around his middle, a little smile threatening his lips. It was no kiss, but it was still kind of nice. He could have wrapped an arm around John's shoulder, and he considered it before they reached the counter. It seemed a little awkward to be so entangled while he ordered though - and yes, he was thinking too hard about this - so instead, he just keeps his hands dumbly at his sides.</p>
<p>The girl at the counter is a little more perky, taking the ten from John and sliding him his change with the receipt, letting them know that the order would be ready in just a few minutes. It was mainly a turn of phrase, though, because it didn't exactly take long to dump some tortilla chips and cheese into a paper boat with all the goods on top, and she was sliding the food over to them rather quickly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The bubbly attitude is contagious, and John gives the girl one of his apologetic smiles as he bounces on the balls of his feet. "Cool, thanks!" He doesn't see a reason to go anywhere else, because she's making it pretty quickly, and when she pushes a tray up to them, John pockets the receipt but leaves the change behind as he lets go of Dirk to hold their food.</p>
<p>He still sticks close by, brushing against him as often as possible until he picks out a clean-looking booth. "I don't know what it is about cheap gas-station grade nachos, but they're so fucking good even though they're terrible." The chips on the top are way too overloaded, so he scrapes the excess off with an empty chip before biting into it. It was better to get them out of the way before they got soggy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's the cheese, I think. Whatever they put in this shit is fucking addictive."</p>
<p>Dirk slips into the opposite seat from John, taking a similar approach to his nachos - he wasn't the type to munch on the supreme nacho first, packed with all the cheese. It was the objectively wrong approach, he thought.</p>
<p>He stretches out his legs underneath the booth, bracketing John's unintentionally as he digs into his food. He hadn't actually eaten anything all day for... reasons, and it was catching up to him awfully quick. He idly worried about making himself sick gorging the nachos so fast, and forced himself to slow down. But John was right. They were excellent.</p>
<p>"Only if it's hot, though. Not sure if you've ever had the displeasure of cold nacho cheese, but it tastes alarmingly like cardboard in a way that I'm convinced some sort of chemical reaction happens with the introduction of heat."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John snickers and spreads his legs, surprised when he brushes up against Dirk's. The booth seats weren't that far apart, so their calves were easily touching. He smiles and takes another big bite, letting his bare leg rub against Dirk's jeans.</p>
<p>"Oh my god, yeah. It turns to rubber so fucking quickly, too. Probably pretty dumb to be putting it in our bodies, but whatever man. Tastes good. Though you shouldn't discredit the amount of salt on the chips themselves for adding to their addiction level."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk shifts his leg under the table, rubbing right back against his calf when he feels the movement. The wordless contact was kind of nice, in that sneaky sort of teenagery way. He was careful and polite enough not to get his gross wet jean leg on John's bare leg, though.</p>
<p>"Fair point. Though, I'm fairly certain the paper boat they come in would taste exactly the same as the chips with a little salt sprinkled on top. Probably with the same amount of health benefits."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Haha! Gross, man. But you're probably right. It'd still suck texturally, though. Have you ever chewed cardboard? Super unpleasant, I don't recommend it." Feeling a little bold and less worried about coming across as a clingy creep, John slips a hand under the table. It takes some reaching, but he's able to gently stroke his fingers up over Dirk's knee.</p>
<p>Despite the ... mess that started out the date, he thinks it's actually ending really well, and for once the prospect of going home to fuck doesn't feel forced or unnatural. To him, anyway. He takes three chips into his mouth at once, a little eager to finish up. Once he's no longer at risk of talking with his mouth full, he glances up at Dirk.</p>
<p>"So, one thing we didn't take into consideration - how are we going to get our bags back? It would have made sense to throw them back over the fence, but now we're going to either have to climb back out or pull the same move twice. And I'm not that confident in my ability to do either." As he speaks, he wiggles his leg under Dirk's, trying to pull it closer and possibly up into his lap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk visibly seems to posture up when John's fingers touch his knee, the surprise at the contact making a little jolt of electricity tingle through him from under John's hand. It was a good sign - John was warming up to him, and it made him feel much more confident with the skittishness John had approached some of their touching before.</p>
<p>Dirk swallows a chip before responding, wordlessly taking John's under the table gesture to put his calf on his thigh.</p>
<p>"Best bet is to just climb back out. Don't worry, I'll help you over if it's too high for you," Dirk teases.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Color floods slowly back into his face, and John keeps his hand under the table, slowly running his fingers up and down Dirk's leg. He never goes higher than the knee, instead focusing most of his touches on his ankle, occasionally sliding up to prod his fingers into the muscles of Dirk's calf.</p>
<p>"Ohohoh, bastard," he laughs at the short joke, not actually upset at all. "I was expecting to throw you over, but now I think I'll just wait on the outside and let you do all the work." His thumb presses firmly into the soft tissue on the back of Dirk's knee, rubbing little circles there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk finishes another nacho and gives a small smirk partially at his own joke, and partially at the color dusting over John's cheeks. It wasn't immediately obvious, but exactly all of his attention was focused on the touch of John's hand on his calf. It felt strangely like foreplay, despite it being entirely innocent, and pretty much as far from his junk as John could get.</p>
<p>But maybe that was just because their time at the arcade was starting to come to a close, and it was pretty obvious what their next course of action would be after that. His leg twitches when John presses into the tendons behind his knee.</p>
<p>"You're blushing."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eating nachos one-handed was surprisingly difficult considering it should be a food you're <em>supposed</em> to eat one-handed. But it might have just been John's focus being elsewhere. He squeezes Dirk's leg, hand sliding downward while keeping the pressure, liking how the meat of his calf seemed to fit into his curved palm so nicely.</p>
<p>His knee that isn't being used as a leg rest starts bouncing, but not out of anxiety. John's staring at the table without really seeing, inhaling almost half of his little cardboard boat full and coughing when Dirk calls him out.</p>
<p>"I thought you were all about subtlety, dude. What the heck." He sighs and rolls his eyes. "So what. I've got a nice leg in my lap, who wouldn't be blushing?" John squeezes his ankle a little before slowly slipping his fingers under the pantleg.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I've never confirmed nor denied that." Dirk murmurs, his smirk widening into a shit-eating grin when he sees he's caught John off guard. Ah, how the tables turn. He might have felt bad about making him choke a bit, but hey, it wasn't his fault that John got so into feeling up his leg that he was blushing.</p>
<p>Dirk slips his leg casually away from John's creeping fingers when they met bare skin, if only to be a tease, and brings them both back to his side of the booth while he eats his food.</p>
<p>"I'm only teasing. It's cute."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He'd be more upset about being mocked like this if he didn't like seeing Dirk smile so much. Even if it was smug as hell. He <em>is</em> more upset when Dirk pulls his leg back, and John sighs, wondering if it's because he once again stepped over a boundary.</p>
<p>"Sure. Pick on the short guy, I see how it is." His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth before he focusing on his nachos again. "You don't just <em>call it out</em> like that, bro. It's embarrassing!"</p>
<p>When he looks at his container next, he's surprised to only see a few more chips. He eats them all in one go, trying to scrape up as much of the toppings onto them as possible before wiping his hands on the cheap napkins.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hey, I only give what I can take."</p>
<p>And he's been taking plenty of good-natured teasing from John all night. He nudges his shoe against John's as a parting gesture, now that his leg was off his lap.</p>
<p>Dirk didn't finish his nachos - it was easy to fill up on the stuff when he ate like a bird, after all, and had taken to just picking some of the little bacon bits off to crunch on. He watches John shove the rest of his chips into his mouth with idle interest, and flicks the corner of a dry tortilla chip at the center of John's chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah, sure. What am I supposed to tease you about, then? All I've got on you is your competitiveness." He taps their shoes together before plopping the cardboard bowl back onto their tray. Dirk's nachos were still waiting to be eaten, but instead of actually eating them, he just starts playing with his food.</p>
<p>"Tsk. What are you, five?" John rolls his eyes and swipes the crumbs off his shirt and lap, the only sign that he's not actually annoyed being the slight curve to one corner of his mouth. "Wanna get milkshakes on the way back? Just absolutely flood our bodies with salty sugary processed garbage?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You literally just teased me, man. You have infinite ammo in that head of yours."</p>
<p>Dirk very purposefully scoops up a glob of cheese and bacon bits on his middle finger after John dusts off his chip attack, popping it into his mouth to suck off the cheese, flipping John off in the process. Once he was done, he places his boat of half-eaten nachos onto the tray, and wipes his fingers on the thin napkins at the table.</p>
<p>"Milkshakes, huh? Sure. No promises that combination won't end with me hurling on the carpet at your place, though."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John cackles and kicks his foot out, hoping to give Dirk a little ding in the shin. "Nasty. Enjoy eating that straight up grease just to insult me." He stands and takes the tray to the nearest trash can, stealing a couple of Dirk's nachos before dumping them and placing the plastic neatly on top.</p>
<p>"Yeah, man, can you really call it a nice date without at least one of us hurling at some point? Why do you think fairs and carnivals are so popular for couples? Just uh. Try to get it in the toilet or a waste bin." He moves to stand beside the table, holding his hand out. It just felt weirdly natural to keep some sort of contact with Dirk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk started to retort but jolts a bit at the kick, immediately shifting his leg away from further attack. Though, John focused pretty quickly after on throwing their stuff away, so it seemed like he was safe.</p>
<p>Dirk scoots to stand from the booth, the plastic making a squealy, squeaky noise as he got to his feet. He was suddenly glad he wasn't wearing shorts, because it would have been hell on his thighs to peel off that overly shiny seat.</p>
<p>Dirk takes John's hand easily into his once he returned, threading his fingers with his once again, starting to lead the way back out towards the mini-golf course. It seems like they'd passed the point of romantic hand-holding being a tentative sort of thing to do.</p>
<p>"No worries. I'm not scheming to ruin your flooring with my barf."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You could have fooled me." He's a little surprised when they head back out, but doesn't say anything until they're out of earshot - they definitely got an eyebrow from the outdoor employee. "I thought we were gonna leave out the front, then come back to get our stuff. This is pretty suspicious, dude."</p>
<p>He's perfectly fine following Dirk's lead, though, but his nervousness makes John repeatedly look over his shoulder in case someone was looking or even following. "They close soon; they'll probably pay more attention to lingering patrons."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's faster this way. Besides, we're leaving anyway," Dirk doesn't seem bothered in the slightest, genuinely not seeming to see the point in John's approach, just sauntering his way past the employee and to the entrance of the course where they'd putted their first hole not too long ago. "What are they going to do, scold us for leaving the wrong way?"</p>
<p>Dirk lightly squeezes his hand. "Looking over your shoulder all jumpy like that <em>does</em> make it look infinitely more suspicious, man. What did I tell you about acting like you belong?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He scowls behind himself before shrugging a shoulder. "I dunno man. Clearly you've never worked closing in retail. Doesn't matter how bad or unenthused the employee is; once there's less than an hour, they start watching people like hawks. But."</p>
<p>John turns to look at him again, smiling as he lifts their hands to his mouth. "I guess it doesn't matter if we get kicked out anyway, right?" He doesn't do anything like kiss his hand, but he does hold it there, mouth pressed against their fingers like he's hiding a smile with them, despite his smile being clearly visible. Then he drops Dirk's hand so he can sling his backpack over his shoulder and snatch up the other one. "Want a boost?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You caught me."</p>
<p>Dirk feels a very warm sensation in his chest when John lifts their entwined hands to his lips, a little smile appearing on his face to return John's. He holds his gaze before John breaks the moment to grab his bag. Dirk takes the opportunity to shoulder his own, and once it was snug across his body, he gives a shrug in response to John's offer. Something a bit more casual than <em>yes, please put those strong hands on me immediately</em>.</p>
<p>"Sure. I can help you up after."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah. Figured as much." Once they have their things, and John does a cursory pocket check, he bumps shoulders with Dirk and drops to one knee, hands out with palms up and fingers interlocked. "Probably not the most graceful, unless you'd rather climb up on my shoulders." His eyes glint when he smirks next. "Not that that'll be much of a difference, right?"</p>
<p>He doesn't know how much Dirk could help him - maybe he should have actually allowed him to pull him up those few times to see how strong he was, because he <em>might</em> really need his help here. His shoes probably wouldn't fit too well in the links of the fence. "...Maybe I could just walk out the front door after helping you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk chuckles softly, using the boost of John's locked fingers to scale the fence nice and easy, straddling the top just as he had before. He's careful to make sure his bag doesn't get caught, and drops down to land on the dumpster. Once his feet were planted, he leans over the top pole to offer both of his hands to John.</p>
<p>He pretty much waves away John's doubts entirely. "No way, man. I've got you. I don't want you getting run out of the place by angry employees with brooms."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I mean, I'll take it if it doesn't mean looking like an idiot who can't hop a fence." His return laugh is a little uncomfortable, a little wary, but he licks his lips and stares up at Dirk, deciding to trust him. "If I don't make it..." The attempt at one of those cliche sorrowful moments is broken by a guffaw, and John takes Dirk's hands, squeezing them and getting ready to flail.</p>
<p>"Just please don't drop me. I land hard."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hush, babe. I said I got you, didn't I?" Dirk murmurs the reassurance to him in a surprisingly sincere tone, slipping his hold down to John's forearms for a better grip. "Start climbing on three, alright?"</p>
<p>Dirk shifts his stance to a proper one for maximum balance and leverage before beginning the obligatory countdown. He keeps his eyes on John's, shades slipping slightly down his nose at the angle - just enough for his amber ones to be visible. Once he hits three, he starts to pull.</p>
<p>Now that he was using his actual strength on John, it seems like his fit little pipe cleaner body packed a deceptive amount of muscle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was that little pet name again, and this time it didn't seem sarcastic or jokey. The smile drops off John's face as they wind their arms around each other, each holding on just before the elbow. He stares up at Dirk, one shoe partially crammed into a hole to use as a foothold, but he knew putting any amount of weight on it would make it slip out. So Dirk really was the main support.</p>
<p>Their eyes meet, John's above the rim of his own glasses (so he couldn't see him <em>that</em> well) but it still felt pretty significant.</p>
<p>When Dirk hits three, John grips his arms tightly, pulling himself up at the same time as his feet push at the fence. He wishes his hands were free, but it ends up not mattering. He knew Dirk wasn't weak, but the actual amount of strength was surprising, and John clambers over the fence with moderate ease. "Damn, dude. Remind me never to doubt you again." He's still holding onto his arms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk tugs and leans at the proper intervals to help John over, stepping back once John's feet were on solid ground - or, as solid as the lid of a dumpster can be, really - next to him. He offers another smile now that John looked a little less concentrated on not falling or gazing directly into his eyes, the latter of which Dirk was able to recognize as a Moment, capital <em>M</em>. He wasn't in a rush to let him go after that.</p>
<p>"I'll keep it in mind." John hadn't let go of his arms, and Dirk didn't make the first move to do so, just giving him a light squeeze, thumbs brushing over where he'd gripped him so tightly just moments before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Neither of them are letting go yet, and while John's perfectly fine with the contact and the proximity and the feelings twisting around in his chest, he kind of has an issue with the setting. So he chews on his lip a moment, glances around, and huffs a quiet laugh.</p>
<p>"So uh. Kissing on a dumpster would be pretty gross, right?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk starts to say something, but stops himself, and his smile strains just the slightest bit. He releases his hold on John's arms, starting to slip them from his grip gently. He sort of hated that this guy was making him feel like he was a nervous sweaty-palmed teenager all over again.</p>
<p>"I've kissed in worse places, admittedly. But you have a point. Come on, let's get back to the car before that dead-eyed kid at the mini-golf counter comes looking for us."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The twisting in his chest turns sharp, and John slumps just a bit. He thinks maybe he misread the situation entirely. Dirk's arms slide out of his hands easily after that, and he hops down from the lid with a shrug. "Sure." After a quick glance to make sure no one was nearby, he darts from the maintenance area across the parking lot and toward his car, only stopping to look behind him once he has his hand on the hood.</p>
<p>"Do you still want milkshakes then, or?" With the key fob in hand, he unlocks the doors and climbs in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk pushes up his shades again once his hands were free, following John's lead as he hops down from the top of the dumpster and jogs after him to the car. He sort of wished he would have stolen the dumpster kiss, and gets the impression that maybe John hadn't just said that to avoid kissing him. Was he overthinking this? Probably. And wasn't there something he was supposed to remember when he got back in the car?</p>
<p>It takes Dirk a moment to register John's question, blinking behind his shades. "Huh? Oh. Yeah, sure." He slips into the passenger seat once the door was open, and sort of. Rests his still vaguely damp foot on top of his dry one to avoid getting the floorboards too gross.</p>
<p>After a second, he slips his hand over the center console to take John's hand into his. "Hey, John?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We could also just head back so you can wash your stank-leg." John snickers as he slips the key into the ignition, one hand on his seatbelt, ready to drag it across himself. "You know you can take your shoe off, right? I mean, pants too if it's that bad, but I don't want it to sound like a come-on."</p>
<p>Before he can turn the key, Dirk's taking his hand again, and he turns to look over at him, a little surprised. "Yeah?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk doesn't bother kicking off his shoe, not right now at least. He had plenty of time to fish out the wadded paper towels later. Besides, he was sort of focused on something else at the moment.</p>
<p>He grips John's hand just the slightest bit tighter, his other moving to rest on John's cheek. He doesn't give him a chance to say anything else as he leans across the center console, and presses his lips to his.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John really wishes this weird roller coaster he's on will level out at some point because he's getting <em>real tired</em> of not knowing what's going on at any given time. He doesn't move, still a little stunned when Dirk kisses him, but he has enough sense to turn to face him a little more, head tilting for better contact. The hand in Dirk's lowers so it's not such a strange angle, and he's glad he didn't buckle up yet, because now he can push up onto his knee to lean closer.</p>
<p>There's a small part of him worried to try anything that might be either too tender or too intense, because he <em>still doesn't know what's happening, or what Dirk wants,</em> so John keeps it gentle, almost chaste as he mirrors Dirk's pose, his other hand coming up to curl along Dirk's jaw.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk has a brief moment of horror for the second or two that John doesn't kiss back out of surprise - <em>fuck, he was right, John didn't just not want to kiss him on the dumpster, he didn't want to kiss him at <strong>all </strong></em>- but breathes an almost grateful sigh of relief through his nose when John presses closer to him.</p>
<p>Dirk brushes his thumb lightly over John's cheek as he moves his lips slowly against the other man's, not going any further than just a little slip of his tongue along John's bottom lip. He had no intention of getting too hot and heavy - car sex was terrible and uncomfortable for both parties involved. But he really wanted to kiss him to break some of the tension building inside of him. And maybe reassure himself a bit in the process.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He can't be 100% sure this isn't just Dirk indulging him, but John figures he'll contemplate that tomorrow. Right now he was enjoying himself. He returns the little sigh with his own, lips parting immediately when Dirk passes his tongue over them. He probably tastes salty and greasy and not at all pleasant, so he's glad that for now it's not very intense.</p>
<p>He'll brush his teeth while Dirk takes a shower.</p>
<p>John tries to seal his mouth over the tongue before Dirk pulls it back, but doesn't do much else before he breaks the kiss. He laughs a little, pleased, and mutters, "I don't really want to get busy in an arcade parking lot, dude."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Me neither. Take me home, and you can kiss me there instead." Dirk slips his tongue from where John had tried to capture it and presses a fleeting peck to his lips, sort of grateful that John had it in him to pull away first. He could have kissed him, chaste as it was, for a whole lot longer. He didn't realize how much he'd wanted it until he had it, really.</p>
<p>He smiles as he sits back in his seat, buckling up before he's toeing off his gross shoe and sock, feeling immediate fucking reprieve from the awful humidity. "Milkshakes first, if you're so inclined. Just keep my barf warning in the back of your mind at all times."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He doesn't have to tell John twice. "Sounds great." He's still breathing a little funny, high on the slight adrenaline rush as he clicks his belt into place and starts up the car. Which of course only fuels the adrenaline but succinctly ruins the mood when John screeches at the blast of country music destroying his ears. He slams a hand on the off switch, then scowls at Dirk silently for a moment. "Ass."</p>
<p>When they're back on the road again, John takes a detour that passes through the street with the most fast food places.</p>
<p>"We can just get smalls. Any specific places you wanna order from?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk nearly ascends from his physical body when the stupid yee haw music blasts at full volume. Oh yeah. That was what he was supposed to remember when he got in the car. He was easily placated after his startle by John's terrified holler though, a genuine laugh spilling from his lips.</p>
<p>He did his best to hold in his snicker once the music was off and his laughter couldn't be hidden, concealing his grin with his hand while John starts to drive. Eventually though, he manages to reign his shit back together.</p>
<p>"It's almost midnight. That drive in place near downtown is probably the only place still open with milkshakes."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay so the date was a LOT longer than I expected, so I'm cutting it up!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Date night pt. 2.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He has the distinct feeling that Dirk is laughing at him, and he's torn between grumpy humiliation and genuine enjoyment that Dirk's so expressive around him, even if he's trying to hide it. The positive wins out, probably solely because of that kiss before it happened, and John smiles at the windshield, cheeks still rosy with a combination of everything.</p>
<p>"Any lameass fast food joint with a drive-through has milkshakes, but I've never been to a drive-in before. Sounds pretty fun! They don't do the weird roller skate thing though, do they?" Once they hit a stoplight, John smacks the radio on and swiftly cranks the knob so he can actually listen to music without bleeding ears, and switches it to one of the generic 'top 100' pop stations in the hopes that Dirk would hate it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk scrunches his nose at the music choice, but doesn't fight John on it. It was better than more blaringly loud country music, he supposed, even if it was just as equally whiny.</p>
<p>"They do the weird roller skate thing most of the time. Not sure if they do it this late, though, considering the demographic that loves ogling roller skating girls tuck in to bed at 8 PM. We'll likely just have to park and order from the car. Which, in retrospect, defeats the purpose."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Damn, I actually feel sorry for them. Ah well, I kinda planned on a quick pickup but we can sit and drink if you want!" At the next light, he searches his phone for the address, setting the map application to tell him how to get there.</p>
<p>"Kinda weird they'd be open this late. Also, dude, you can change the station. I just wanted to bug you; I don't actually want to listen to this."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk elects to just turn off the radio, immediately feeling relief that he wasn't on a date with someone who's music tastes were so bland. Dirk, admittedly, sort of liked the song that was on. He was a bit of a poser, but no one needed to know that about him.</p>
<p>"It's not that serious. We could just as easily go to a drive-thru - but you'll have to lower your milkshake standards."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Don't get me wrong, I'd love to sit in a creepy empty lot with you and have a bomb milkshake. But uh." John winces, taking a turn and spotting the drive-in coming up. "I mean, like. You've indulged me a whole lot today with the date, and I don't wanna get my hopes up or anything, because I thought you just wanted to fuck."</p>
<p>His knee is bouncing again, anxious and worried he's messed things up, but that elephant in the room had to be addressed before he did anything stupid like get attached. "So I didn't want to drag it out if you're not really feeling it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He knew this would come up again sooner or later; the reality of John being painfully sincere about his intentions to use this date to get to know him, and make up for what had happened at the party. The reality that John, for some reason, felt some sort of attraction to him that was more than just sexual. Dirk felt himself tense.</p>
<p>"...I decided to go on this date with you," Dirk says, after a long pause. "Because I want to have sex with you. That was true. I'd be lying if I said otherwise."</p>
<p>Dirk considers his next words very carefully, feeling a prickling sensation of discomfort at this sudden feelings jam. He needed time to mentally prepare for shit like this, emotionally constipated as he was, terrible at being vulnerable. He knew that he didn't want to upset John more than he already had at this restaurant, though. And that he wasn't enough of an asshole to knowingly break this guy's heart. He felt his face warming again, his eyes out the window as he drummed his fingers on his thigh, subtly anxious.</p>
<p>"But, uh. Y'know. I like you. You're... not a bad guy. I had a lot of fun with you tonight," He murmurs, sitting incredibly still in his seat. "So, I'm feeling it. No need to worry about dragging anything out. And if you'd rather not fuck me, I understand."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time Dirk starts talking again, John's slowly pulling into the lot. He doesn't know the etiquette of places like this, but while he'd like some privacy, he feels like it'd be nicer to the employees if they parked close to the entrance. So he slots his car between the guide poles, turning off the engine so he can turn toward Dirk, and listen.</p>
<p>He wasn't looking at John, but there's no... discomfort in it, no tension that John can feel, so he lets himself believe it's just because Dirk's not normally good at having talks like this. He definitely seemed a bit more stunted than Dave, who'd come a long way from when they were younger, so John has a decent idea of how awkward this must be for him. He tries not to feel bad for putting him in this position.</p>
<p>The speaker outside his window goes off, and John rolls the window down to ask for another couple moments, feeling that classic pressure of needing to order as quickly and efficiently as possible but pushing it aside. And after a moment of hesitation, he rolls the window back up.</p>
<p>"I wasn't... before, really into the thought of just having sex. I'm not the kind of guy to have hangups though; I just felt sleazy and even though you were the one asking for it I uh." He laughs a little and shrugs. "I dunno. Just kinda felt gross, like it'd be using you or something. But I'm. Uh. I'm feeling it now too, I guess, so I'm definitely down for it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Some of the tension flows out of Dirk's body when John speaks, and he breathed a soft sigh through his nose. After a second or two, he turns his head to look at him properly, a small upturn at the corner of his mouth.</p>
<p>"You guess, or you know?" He asks, though it's a little less grave than his tone had been before. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that you aren't completely planning on blueballing me, but I want you to be sure that you want this."</p>
<p>He purposely leaves out the part where he <em>wanted</em> John to use him, because that was kind of the whole thing Dirk was all about. For some reason. He needed a therapist, probably.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John huffs, rolls his eyes, and stares out the window. "The 'I guess' was so I didn't sound desperate, you dick." Unfortunately the Drive-In had much better lighting than the arcade, so his flush was much more obvious. "Yeah, I want this. If you <em>absolutely</em> need me to say it for your pride or whatever."</p>
<p>He rubs at his face again, flustered, before returning Dirk's little smile. "So. What flavor do you want?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk laughs softly under his breath, the rest of the tension leaving him when he saw the blush spill over John's cheeks. He had to resist the ridiculously cheesy urge, once again, to reach over and brush his thumb over the redness.</p>
<p>His smile widens just the slightest bit when John meets his eyes. Ugh. High school infatuation all over again.</p>
<p>"Vanilla."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Wow!" His head tosses back with the surprised laughter that sputters up. "Unexpected!" John looks at him with a grin, opens his mouth to make a joke, but figures the joke is too obvious. "Alright, man. Anything else? Do they do fancy toppings and stuff here? I'm expecting you to be an expert since this is my first time."</p>
<p>He narrows his eyes, purses his lips, and hopes Dirk does the same courtesy of not going for the obvious joke as he rolls his window down to order.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk narrows his eyes at John, feeling like he was missing out on a joke. Did he say something? It took him an embarrassingly long few moments to feel the pieces click into place. <em>Oh</em>.</p>
<p>"I doubt that," Dirk casually remarks, passing up his own clear opportunity at a joke with the passive tease instead. He continues just as casually, as if what he was about to say wasn't another thinly veiled opening for a joke. "Nothing too exciting. Whipped cream, cherries, chocolate chips. I prefer whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Mmh." John tilts his head out the window, leaning on the car door so he can get his face obnoxiously close to the speaker. After a quick mention that he's got a peanut allergy, he places their orders. Vanilla shake with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles for Dirk, and a Mint Chocolate Chip with extra chocolate drizzle for himself.</p>
<p>"There's this one place that has a peppermint chocolate chip shake that's so fucking good, but it's a seasonal thing. So do we just like. Wait then? Or is it late enough that we should walk up to the door?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk pulls a face at John's order, giving John an incredibly (un)necessary look of abject disgust. "How do you drink that shit, man? It tastes like toothpaste."</p>
<p>He considers pulling on his shoe again, but his foot was finally dry, and he really didn't want to subject himself to that shit again. Though, he knew for a fact that the employees didn't come to the car this late, and they'd have to pick up their shakes from the server's window.</p>
<p>"You have to go get it. And by you, I mean <em>you.</em> I'm not putting my gross shoe back on."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Different strokes, man." He snickers at Dirk's face, almost jamming his elbow into the horn when he tries to rest his cheek on his fist. It gives the faintest, saddest little wheeze of a honk, thankfully not loud enough to be startling and only going off for a fraction of a second.</p>
<p>"Damn, I see how it is. But that's fair, I guess." He pulls his EpiPen out of his pocket and tosses it over to him before unbuckling and shouldering open the door. It's a little awkward to slide out since he's parked so close to the divider, but John wiggles along the side until he can jog up to the window. They definitely take their time with the shakes, so it's several minutes later that he's paying and carrying the drinks back to his car.</p>
<p>He raps on the passenger side window with his knuckles, smirking down at Dirk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk takes the opportunity of John's absence to slip his phone out of his pocket, checking a few unread messages. One from Dave (asking if he got axe murdered on his date in his typical snarky but well-intentioned way) and one from Jake, asking if he wanted to meet for coffee in the morning.</p>
<p>Dirk frowned, responding to his brother first and his ex second, declining the offer for coffee in the politest way he could. He didn't want to be an asshole, but he wasn't sure if he'd be spending the night with John, and he didn't want to take the risk, really. Plus, he didn't think it was right to hook up with Jake right after a date with John. Dirk knew his ex well enough to know that was exactly what he wanted from him, after all, and it would make Dirk feel sort of skeevy, all things considered.</p>
<p>He still had the frown on his face when John tapped on the glass, but it faded to a smile when he looked up. Dirk rolled down his window with the hand holding John's EpiPen.</p>
<p>"Can I help you?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The frown would have been upsetting if it hadn't immediately bloomed into a smile when Dirk looked at him. It's pretty dumb, how easily that smile gets his pulse racing, and John just attributes it to Striders and their usual aloof attitude making it feel even nicer when they break it.</p>
<p>John waits patiently as the window is rolled down, cheeky grin spread over his own face until Dirk speaks up. "Your order, mister. Sorry, I don't have the skates on today, but it's probably for the best, or you might be sucking the milkshake out of my shirt." His eyebrows wiggle as he unnecessarily leans through the window to pass the vanilla shake over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk chuckles, setting his phone in his lap as he takes the shake. He was so stupidly attracted to this dork.</p>
<p>John leaning through the window had him close enough for Dirk to kiss him if he wanted. And he did want. His phone lights up in his lap with a text, but he ignores it in favor of pressing his mouth briefly to John's, lingering for just a second or two before nudging under his chin with the EpiPen as he pulls away.</p>
<p>"Scandalous, mister carhop. Get in the car, before I tell your boss you're flirting with the customers."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John squints and looks very pleased with himself, as though this had all gone according to plan. And it did, because that was exactly what he wanted Dirk to do. He returns the light kiss, deliberately running his teeth over Dirk's lower lip, before leaning back out of the window with a snicker.</p>
<p>"Pretty sure if they're catering to old men wanting to see pretty girls in roller skates, they'd probably be the kind of company that encourages that kind of thing." But he still scuttles over to his side and climbs in. The blinking phone makes him figure that's why he was frowning, but as previously stated, he's not a nosy bitch and doesn't ask. "You wanna eat here, then?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk feels a little shiver run through him when he feels John's teeth on his lip, not actually expecting it from John. Though, he <em>did</em> say that he was into it, didn't he? Dirk rolls his window back up, still smiling as John circles back to his side of the car.</p>
<p>He took the straw into his mouth to take his first sip as John settled into the driver's seat, putting the EpiPen into the cup holder and idly swiping the text from Jake away with his thumb. There was no need for <em>that</em> conversation right now, because Dirk knew it would lead to a whole lot of overthinking about exactly why he was so quick to pass up a meeting with Jake when he hadn't turned him down once in months.</p>
<p>"Only if you can bear the palpable sexual tension of watching me lick whipped cream off my shake."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Wow. I don't know <em>how</em> I'll handle it." John makes a show of rolling his eyes before buckling in and getting comfortable. He slurps loudly at his own straw because, like any good shake, the straw immediately gets clogged. "Can't believe you waste the whipped cream like that, man. It's supposed to go to the bottom to mix with the melted ice cream to make it fluffier."</p>
<p>He eyes the EpiPen silently, hoping the employees took his allergy seriously, because having a reaction on a date was pretty much the worst time to have a reaction, and <em>any</em> time was fucking horrible. But after the first few gulps, he doesn't feel itchy or wheezy, so he thinks he's fine. "How's your basic-ass shake, Strider?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk only shook his head. "You have some objectively wrong ass opinions about the delicate art of milkshakes, Egbert. I can't believe I'm planning on sleeping with such a normie."</p>
<p>He'd taken to sucking up little blobs of milkshake through his straw, followed by dipping his head to lick up a peak of whipped cream and sprinkles with the tip of his tongue. "Why would you wait for a pile of whipped cream slurry when you could have some with every sip? You wouldn't, because that's terrible. Come on, man. This shit is obvious."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He doesn't bother hiding the fact that he's watching, because he feels like it's exactly what Dirk is expecting. "Uh-huh. Sure, man. All it tells me is that you're impatient to get to the good stuff; you can't savor something before it comes to the nice ending. Tsk."</p>
<p>John shakes his head, faux disappointment in his features. "Not a good trait for someone you're <em>sleeping</em> with to have." He cuts to the chase after the sixth straw clog and pulls the domed lid off, pulling a spoon out of his pocket that he grabbed from the window. "Though, unlike you, I don't have a choice now."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You've got me pegged all wrong, babe. I just like to embellish the flavor, and savor every last bit." Dirk does end up just eating all the whipped cream and sprinkles off the top, though, and still has more than half of a milkshake left, <em>and</em> now his straw is clogged.</p>
<p>He shrugs a shoulder, giving John a tsk. "Maybe you're the one that's impatient. You gotta be tender with a thick milkshake. Get creative." He holds John's gaze very purposefully as he lifts his own straw out of the shake, bringing the opposite end to his mouth and letting the lack of suction dribble the melted ice cream onto his tongue. Sort of a slow and terrible way to drink a milkshake, yeah, but he was proving a point here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John's content with watching as he scoops heaping spoonfuls out and slowly slimming down bit by bit as he slides his lips over the mound. Anything to prevent a head- or toothache. "Mhmm. I'm plenty tender. You're just focused on the whole instead of taking your time to enjoy individual parts. So you don't give anything the full attention... it deserves? I dunno man, I think this metaphor is getting away from me." He laughs as he holds eye contact, licking minty green ice cream off his lips.</p>
<p>"So. Do you call everyone babe, or am I just lucky?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I think I've given <em>you</em> plenty of attention." Dirk smiles, his eyes steady on John's mouth as he eats his milkshake from the spoon, sinking his straw back into his own milkshake to take another sip. His free hand had rested on the center console, inching slowly over until it rested casually on John's thigh.</p>
<p>"I don't call anyone 'babe,' babe."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah, maybe. You've kind of made me greedy for it, if I'm being honest." John eyes the hand creeping toward him with a little smirk, even nudging his knee closer to help him get there. "Ahh, so I <em>am</em> special."</p>
<p>He chuckles and bobs his leg slowly, slipping his spoon back into the cup so he can momentarily cover Dirk's hand with his own while he gives the straw another try.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I think so, yeah." Dirk agrees without thinking - he'd been doing that a lot with John - and quickly realizes that the implication sounds a little too intimate and gay for a first date, at least. He spreads his fingers to let John's settle in the divots between his own, and quickly doubles back on his mushy sentiment.</p>
<p>"But your taste in milkshakes is shit. It's a real dealbreaker."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John practically buries his face in his cup because it absolutely <em>is</em> getting very gay and intimate and he doesn't know how to deal with that. There's still that very small prickle of guilt that the good time between them hasn't been able to wash away, and now there's the anxiety that John's going to ask for another date, for more time spent together, and he isn't sure if Dirk would be into that, or if he'd just look clingy when Dirk initially wanted a one-off.</p>
<p>But John's okay with letting it play out, because he's having a very good time with him and he'll take what he can get.</p>
<p>"Damn. Well, you can't win 'em all, right? I did my best, but in the end my shitty taste was my downfall." His shoulder lifts in a bored shrug even as he tightens his fingers around Dirk's hand, enjoying the fit. "I think I'm almost done, though. You still think you're gonna puke, or are we good?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'll send the annulment to your apartment."</p>
<p>He might have puked if he couldn't keep some of those dumb gay words in his mouth a little better. It seems like John wasn't going to indulge him with some of his own, though, so he'd probably be fine. His thumb runs lightly along John's palm, and he tries to pretend he isn't viciously fighting back embarrassment from a little sentiment and hand-holding.</p>
<p>"The nachos haven't shown any sign of resurfacing yet. But no promises." He puts his half-finished milkshake in the free cup holder for good measure though. Jokes aside, he really didn't want to top off their night by puking in the middle of sex, despite the fact that his stomach could likely classify as a bomb shelter from all the certified garbage he eats on a daily basis.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh damn, you're serious about this huh. Getting all hardcore legal and everything. What a shame." John's looking at him, lips pursed around his overbite and eyes narrowed, and that's when he realizes it might be time to go. Because he's starting to rethink the whole 'no getting busy in a parking lot' and that's probably a dangerous way to be thinking.</p>
<p>So he once again brings their clasped hands to his mouth, flipping them so he can press a kiss to Dirk's palm, before letting go so he can start the car. His own nearly-empty cup is placed in the holder built into the door. "So. You ready to head back? Any more stops you wanna make along the way? Because I won't mind lending you some clothes for after the shower, but I don't think they'll fit very well."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just as Dirk was considering leaning over the center console to kiss John again, parking lot be damned, he broke the moment of tension by kissing his hand. Dirk was sure he wasn't imagining the way he'd been looking at him. He settles his hand briefly on John's thigh just long enough to give a light squeeze, before retracting his arm back to his side of the car.</p>
<p>"I'm good. I doubt I'll be too concerned with wearing clothes after the shower anyway." His flirting was followed by a brief pause. He'd been meaning to ask him about it, concerned about being too presumptuous - how could he know for sure if John was alright with him staying the night in his bed? "Did you plan on me sleeping over?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His focus on backing out of the parking space is broken with Dirk's question, and John taps the breaks to glance over at him. "I thought-" He cuts himself off, feeling his face heat up because oh, do people not stay the night when they have sex? Seems kinda weird, but maybe John's just sentimental.</p>
<p>"I mean, I kind of thought that was uh... A given, but if you don't wanna stay the night I can take you home, you know. After." Glossing over the topic like this felt so... high school, and John can't help but snort out a single giggle. "God. Sorry. I'd like if you-" His eyes snap wide open, unfocused, and suddenly John has the intrusive thought that maybe Dirk was asking because he was <em>uncomfortable</em> with the thought of sleeping around him. "Um. I mean, you're good... Doing whatever you wanna do. No pressure."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No. No, I want to. I just wanted to make sure. Some people are weird about that shit." Dirk quickly works to clarify once he sees the momentary panic flash over John's face. He had to keep reminding himself that not everyone saw intimacy through such a warped filter, such that even staying the night after sex seemed like a special boundary to be crossed.</p>
<p>Though, he hadn't actually slept over with someone since he was in a relationship.</p>
<p>"I'm fine with sleeping over. I don't mean to sound like an asshole."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's a cold, heavy weight in his belly, and when he tries to respond, it comes out scattered. "No, it's... that's not." John takes a moment to gather his thoughts, tongue wetting his lips as he resumes driving. He doesn't speak again until they're back on the road. "I just... mean, like. Are you sure you want to? After the party? Cause I'd get it!"</p>
<p>He doesn't want Dirk to think he's getting second thoughts or cold feet or anything, so when he thinks it's safe he reaches over to gently touch his arm, before snapping his hand back on the wheel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh."</p>
<p>It's all Dirk says for a moment, getting lost in thought. His sense of self-preservation was certified, grade-A shit - he hadn't even considered that he should be cautious of sleeping around John. Though, he supposed that was because he genuinely believed there wasn't anything to worry about. Dirk had plenty of time to get to know what John was all about, and it was obvious to him that this man was a total sweetheart.</p>
<p>Dirk wasn't always the best at reading people, but he also wasn't an idiot, and he knew that John wouldn't bring himself to willingly hurt him. Especially not sober. He eventually speaks up again.</p>
<p>"No, I'm sure. I trust you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John isn't sure he's holding his breath until it gusts out of him in a quiet sigh. All the unrecognized tension leaves him as well, and John can't help but smile at the windshield. "... Thank you. That uh. Really means a lot; I've kinda been holding onto it for a while now. Even if I sometimes didn't realize it."</p>
<p>He takes another deep, easy breath and leans back in his seat. He wishes his dad hadn't hammered good driving practices into his skull because he might have tried to kiss Dirk again despite being in a moving vehicle. "We got another ten minutes or so before we get back, if you want to destroy my ears with more country music again."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk felt himself relax when John does. "You're a pretty good dude, John."</p>
<p>There was that warm feeling in his chest again, making his heart flutter. It was getting to be sort of alarming how often that was happening tonight. The word <em>infatuation</em> floats through the back of his mind, but it feels uncomfortable, so he ignores it in favor of shifting his eyes out the window again - he'd been staring at John, and that little smile on his face.</p>
<p>"Nah. I don't think even my red-blooded southern heart could take another ten minutes of screeching tractor ballads."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John's lost track of how many times he's felt a blush prickling gently at his skin tonight, and it happens again at the genuine compliment. His cheeks ache a little with how much he's smiling, and he tries not to feel like a twitterpated idiot. "Thanks... Even though I'm kind of a scumbag when I drink I guess. Ah well. I never really liked alcohol anyway."</p>
<p>He starts sneaking glances at his passenger again, similar to when the date started, but a lot less nervous."Damn, whatever happened to embracing your roots? Tsk." John laughs again, quietly, as he nears his apartment building, then eventually pulls into the parking garage, heading up to the correct floor. "Your pantleg dry yet?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk chances a few glances of his own over to John, meeting his eyes several times through the tint of his shades. Though, he supposed at this angle, John could see his eyes anyway. Whatever. It was worth it to see him totally cheesing at Dirk's compliment. <em>Nice, Strider.</em></p>
<p>"If stiff and sort of sticky classifies as dry, yes. My shoe is a lost fucking cause," He gripes but pulls it on anyway, damp sock, wadded paper towels and all. He could have demanded that John carried him so he wouldn't have to, since he was definitely capable of it, but that seemed a little gauche. "I'll be sure to send you an invitation to its Viking funeral at the same shitty faux pond it was ruined in."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pulls a face at the answer. "Shit. Hope they weren't your favorite pair." He carefully pulls into his designated spot and reaches back for their bags, holding both of them in his lap. "Hate to break it to you, man, but I don't think the arcade will let you set fires on their property." John smirks as he starts weaving the straps over his chest. "I'm sure that won't stop you, though."</p>
<p>The EpiPen and the car keys are tucked into his pockets, and John grabs the remainder of his shake before pushing open the car door. There's an anticipatory little twist in his belly that he tries not to focus too hard on.</p>
<p>Haha. Hard-on. ...Fuck. "C'mon, let's get you to a shower."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What can I say, I'm a lovable little arsonist. I hope you don't hold it against me." Dirk takes his melting shake from the cupholder and almost reaches for his bag, only to see that John's already grabbed it.</p>
<p>He opens the passenger door, getting to his feet and briefly closing his eyes in distaste at the terrible sensation of acquainting his dry foot with a wet shoe. He couldn't stress enough how much he regretted not going full tool and wearing his combat boots tonight. "I can carry that, dude."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What a shame I don't stand a chance since you're leaving me for liking mint chocolate chip." He solemnly shakes his head, shutting the door after pressing the lock, and takes a few steps toward the door. Dirk speaks up, and he glances down at the strap crossing over his chest.</p>
<p>"You can, yeah, but I've already got it. Don't mistake it for chivalry, dude, I just feel like walking around in a squishy shoe is burden enough." He shakes his keys into his hand, looking for the one to his apartment as he uses his ass to push open the door into the long hallway. "Third one down, on the right."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'd tell you to brush your teeth before kissing me now that you've drank it, but, again. It's toothpaste." Dirk murmurs, shrugging a shoulder.</p>
<p>"But you're probably right. I'm a few dozen steps from perishing where I stand." Dirk is exaggerating with that, obviously, but he does visibly walk with his weight leaned on his right, non-wet side - a completely different breed of genuine dramatics. He brushes past John with his stilted gait, coming to a stop at the door on the right side of the hall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Don't worry, I planned on brushing my teeth anyway while you showered. Toothpaste shake or not, I still taste cheap nachos." He offers a sympathetic hum as he watches Dirk shuffle toward the door. When the proper key is pinched between his fingers, he unlocks his apartment and pushes it open for him. "Feel free to kick them off right here. Bathroom's through the living area, in that little hall - door on the left." His room was at the end of the hall, but John figures he'll try to do the nice thing and help clean and dry Dirk's shoe in the kitchen sink so he doesn't have to sacrificially burn it at the Mini-Golf course.</p>
<p>He shuts the door behind them, locking it again, before shrugging the bags off and tucking them under a little table with a lamp that he switches on. He toes off his shoes and tucks them to the side as well. "Towels are in the cabinet above the toilet; give me a second to get my toothbrush and I'll do it out here."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk takes off both of his shoes once he steps inside - after a bit of hovering, it was always strange to enter someone else's house for the first time and have the inward 'shoes or no shoes' debate, but John was kind enough to lay it right out for him - and nods at the directions. "Thank you."</p>
<p>Though, he has a moment of pause after the whole teeth brushing mention as he starts towards John's bathroom, pushing open the door. Did he taste like nachos too? Should he have brought a toothbrush? Probably. Fuck, he should have brought an actual overnight bag for this exact reason, but he wasn't sure if he was spending the night, and... fuck. Anyway.</p>
<p>"Do you have an extra?" He starts unbuttoning his jeans as he speaks, wanting the dirtied fabric off his calf as soon as possible. "I don't want to subject you to my gross nacho mouth, if you're cleaning yours. Shit's cruel and unusual."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John follows him to the bathroom, about to reach inside when Dirk asks for a spare. He snickers and raises an eyebrow. "Dude, I <em>did</em> ask if you needed anything else. I just didn't like... Want to specify toothbrush because it kinda felt like it might be insulting to straight-up ask if you wanted to brush your teeth. I don't think... wait, hold up."</p>
<p>He shoves the adjacent door open, stepping into his room and looking through his drawers. In the bottom one, he finds a little travel kit his father always insisted on him having that he never used, and inside there's a little individually wrapped toothbrush. "Fuck yeah." He sends a silent 'thank you' before passing it over to Dirk and reaching into the bathroom to get his own. He coats the bristles with the paste before leaving the tube on the sink for Dirk to use. "I'll be back in the living room when you're done."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know that, I just... nevermind." Dirk had started to respond to John, but he was already out of the bathroom by the time he spoke. Whatever. He took the few moments of absence to lay his leather jacket on the counter and strip off his shirt, starting up the shower.</p>
<p>Dirk was incredibly grateful when John reappeared with the toothbrush - he couldn't imagine he would have been able to kiss him without feeling gross after this conversation. "My hero. Thanks, dude. I'll be quick."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Considering the night they had planned, this time John doesn't bother trying to hide his interest, biting down on his lip as he looks over Dirk's chest and back. "Uh-huh. You're welcome." He shoots the man a cheeky little wink that he immediately feels stupid for, and leaves the bathroom laughing at himself.</p>
<p>While Dirk showers, he brushes his teeth quickly and sets his brush far enough away that the splashing from the nasty shoe won't hit it, then plugs up the sink and starts filling it with soap and hot water. He figures it shouldn't matter if it gets soaked even if it's already starting to dry, and once all the paper towels are pulled out, he ducks it under the surface and uses his knuckles to try and rub off the slime still clinging to the material.</p>
<p>It felt... really weird washing someone's shoe for them, and technically this wasn't even John's fault, but he still felt like it was a nice thing to do. When he doesn't see or feel any of the weird brown/green algae, he rinses the shoe several times in scalding hot tap water before squeezing out as much as he can and setting it upside down in the other sink basin and washing his hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He rolled his eyes at the wink and hides a smile, setting his shades on the counter as John steps out and leaves him to his shower.</p>
<p>Dirk always liked his showers hot, steamy, and <em>long.</em> They contributed to a huge chunk of his time in the bathroom, even more so than when he styled his hair. Though, it wasn’t as if he had a whole lot to do in there. The hot water was just a perfect place to zone out, right up until he was at that sweet spot of drowsily relaxed and flirting with the threat of passing out from heatstroke. This time was one of the rare exceptions that he kept it quick, though.</p>
<p>He lathered himself with John’s body wash, paying extra attention to his gross leg, but his hair was an unfortunate casualty, and took quite a bit of water damage. His style was already far from perfect after the whole wrestling match on the mini-golf course though, so he supposed the only solution to look less like shit was to go au naturale. He carded his fingers through his hair to get out the remainder of the product, and wrapped up his shower in under 20 minutes, for once.</p>
<p>He stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, cheeks pinkened, with a towel wrapped around his waist as he rubbed another at his wet hair. He couldn't see John in the living room like he'd said, and spared a brief glance to his bedroom across the hall. "John? Hey, shower's all yours, if you still want it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ah, yeah!" John ducks out of the little kitchenette, drying his hands on a dishcloth, and smiles wide when he sees Dirk with his hair down and only in a towel. "Oh, nice. You look good." He tucks the towel into the handle of his oven and grabs his toothbrush before walking over, keeping a few feet between them so he could resist the urge to run his hands over all that exposed skin.</p>
<p>He had <em>some</em> semblance of control, damn it. "Yeah, I'll be quick. Help yourself to whatever!" All he really wants is to clean up after his nervous sweats - despite the fact that he intended to get sweaty all over again in a little while. John slips by Dirk, pausing to brush his knuckles over his bare hip before tucking into the bathroom and closing the door behind himself.</p>
<p>His clothes are shucked embarrassingly quickly, and he's glad Dirk can't see him stripping so eagerly before he's turning on the hot water for himself. He can smell his own body wash already, and there's something strange and pleasant about knowing someone else washed up with his soap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk feels a small shiver as John brushes his knuckles along his skin, which he honestly was completely expecting. Though, he sort of wished that John would have let that slight touch linger just a few seconds longer - spread his palms over his hips and abdomen, and use the leverage to pull him closer, but hey. There was plenty of time for that once John was done with his shower.</p>
<p>Dirk quickly realizes that he's left his phone in the pocket of his jeans on the floor of the bathroom, so he'd have to find something else to keep him busy. He settles the towel he'd used to dry his hair over his shoulders, and takes it upon himself to rummage through John's dresser to find a pair of boxers. <em>Rummage</em> might have been a strong word, though. He didn't leave a trace of his searching whatsoever, aside from the disappearance of a pair of underwear from John's drawer.</p>
<p>He pulled them on, and took a moment to feel ridiculous that they almost didn't fit - curse his narrow hips - and neatly put his towels into John's laundry hamper. He decided to poke around John's room to sate his restless brain while he waited.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John washes thoroughly but quickly, not taking any time to enjoy the feeling of hot water or getting clean - there was time for that literally any other time he showered; right now Dirk was hanging out in his apartment. It still takes a good fifteen minutes before he's stepping out and blindly groping in the cupboard for a towel, then uses the chance to clean his glasses.</p>
<p>He almost reaches for his toothbrush again - his standard nightly routine - before remembering it was already taken care of. So instead he starts gathering up the littered clothing on his floor, wondering if he'd have the chance to run downstairs sometime tonight to wash them. He'd hate having to stick a clean leg in stiff grimy pants, but he also doesn't wanna seem like a busybody; cleaning Dirk's shoe was embarrassing enough.</p>
<p>John rolls his eyes at himself, staring in the mirror and wishing his hair could do anything but stick out the way it does, even when soaking wet, before leaving the bathroom with a towel around his hips and an armful of clothes. He shoulders into his room to drop at least his own into the hamper, calling out to wherever Dirk might have been. "There's a laundry room on the first floor if you want to use it. It's free for tenants, so you can just pretend you're me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There's no response from Dirk at first - he's too busy poking around in John's movie collection in the living room. He puts a copy of Con-Air back on the entertainment stand, and has to live with the fact that all of the men he fools around with have terrible taste in one thing or another. Movies seem to be the trend, lately.</p>
<p>Dirk pads down the hall, following the sound of John's voice into his room. He leans on the frame of his door, giving the muscles of John's back an appreciative once over. "No worries. I'll just burn the pants when I get home."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The voice surprises him as he's checking pockets before dumping clothes in the hamper, and John jolts and drops everything in. Hearing at least one phone slip out and clunk to the bottom, he heaves a sigh. He hated digging through dirty laundry, especially after he was clean. Still, he shoves his arm down into the netted container, feeling his towel slip a little lower as he bends; this feels like a dumbass porno situation.</p>
<p>"Dude. You gotta stop threatening to solve every problem with fire." His voice is a little muffled but he comes back up with his own phone in hand, then resumes his search. "Is this all you had in your pockets?" He turns toward Dirk with hands full of whatever he could find, then smirks when he spies him wearing his underwear. "Nice. Fits real well, huh?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Just my phone and a condom." Dirk pushes off the door frame to pad over and take them both from John, returning John's smirk with a smile of his own. His eyes met his, shades still abandoned on the bathroom counter, before purposefully flicking down to where the towel rested low on John's hips.</p>
<p>The boxers Dirk wore didn't fare much better - they weren't about to go sliding off of him, but they naturally settled a good few inches lower than his waist. "They're a little big. Not all of us were graced with an excellent ass."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John drops everything else on his dresser nearby, only fiddling with his phone long enough to silence it until morning. He turns back to Dirk staring at him, and like every time he's gotten a good look at the amber eyes (except now, when it's a much stronger reaction with them both being nearly naked) his stomach flutters, sending warmth and weakness momentarily down his limbs.</p>
<p>He immediately grabs the point where his towel is tucked around itself, hoisting it up just a little when Dirk's attention falls to it, then honks out an awkward little laugh. "Dude. Bigger doesn't always equal excellent when butts come into play. Shoulda figured you were an ass-man though." He kinda feels like he should put <em>something</em> on, but thinks it might be pointless. But undressing each other was part of having a good time together, so he's torn. "Surprised you didn't go for my ghostbusters briefs. You know they glow in the dark? And they're a little small for me, so they would have fit." Feeling bold, he pinches the waistband of the boxers and tugs them up just a little.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Those are entirely too dorky to actually put on my body. Sorry, man." Dirk breathes a slight laugh through his nose at the offer, and sort of wishes he <em>would</em> have done a little rummaging through the underwear drawer. He wasn't lying about not wanting to wear them, though. The dorkiest thing he would put on his body was John himself. He steps closer when John's fingers tug at his boxers, his eyes traveling back up to meet his.</p>
<p>One of his hands moves to card fingers through John's damp hair in a useless attempt to smooth its chaotic style - and partly because he just wanted an excuse to rest his hand on the back of John's neck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That's a shame." He returns Dirk's smile, feeling his heart pound against his ribcage when he steps closer. That last little bit of nervous tension eases away when he touches John, and both of his hands lift to slide around the taller man's hips. John swallows, glad he brushed his teeth, and moves even closer until his chest is brushing Dirk's.</p>
<p>"Yeah, don't bother. It does whatever it wants. I'm just lucky it still manages to look decent <em>doing</em> what it wants." His voice is lower than usual, building up the atmosphere as he rubs a palm up Dirk's still barely damp spine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The smile lingers on his lips as John presses closer, his fingers playing idly with the hairs at the nape of the other man's neck. It was true, John's unruly hair had a tendency to look great no matter what. It was sort of unfair, considering he was hot enough already.</p>
<p>His fingers curl just slightly against John's skin, and he doesn't hesitate to dip down and press his mouth to his. He'd had more than enough tension building on this date - and the few kisses he'd shared with John hadn't done much to satiate it. <em>This</em> was something that Dirk actually knew his way around, none of the uncertainty or fumbling that came with romance plaguing him like it had on their remarkably vanilla date. It felt natural to kiss John.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John breathes against him when Dirk pushes in for that kiss, and he feels a little awkward - not for the first time, and not even for the first time <em>with Dirk</em> that he has to push himself up a little to make a kiss more comfortable for the other person. But that's soon at the back of his mind, and eventually out of his mind altogether with the slide of skin against his.</p>
<p>The hand on Dirk's back stays where it is, fingertips tracing up and down and feeling the barely-there vertebrae while his other hand slides up the taller man's ribs, passing over his chest, until he's also cupping the back of Dirk's neck. A little suction allows him to pull Dirk's lower lip between his own, and John sighs as he tugs at it with his mouth, swiping his tongue over the soft skin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk parts easily for John when he feels his tongue brush his lower lip, not seeming to mind the slight angle he had to lean to kiss John comfortably. His pierced tongue presses into John's mouth as he kisses him languidly, the stud dragging along the sensitive muscle.</p>
<p>The feeling of John's hands on him had electricity tingling through Dirk's body, subtle and chasing every little point of contact. It was sort of weird kissing John like this for the first time while being pretty close to naked already, but he certainly wasn't complaining.</p>
<p>The hand that was on John's neck shifted opposite to the way John moved, and before long his hands were on John's hips, fingers teasing at the edge of the towel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He'd somehow managed to forget about that piercing, and John shivers as he pays special attention to it; running his tongue around it, or trying to pinch it between his lips. He'd never kissed anyone with a tongue piercing before, and it certainly was an enjoyable sensation.</p>
<p>Dirk moves alarmingly close to his towel and it sends little nervous flutters through his belly again. His hands slowly follow, unknowingly mimicking Dirk as he also spreads his fingers around his hips. He likes how they feel under his palms, and John gives a slow squeeze before leaning back and tilting his head to kiss Dirk's jaw.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk easily tips his head for John to kiss along his jaw, his fingers still ghosting dangerously around the towel. He didn't plan on dropping it just yet - he might be sort of a slut, but he appreciated some steady foreplay. It wasn't always about jumping straight to dick. Even though he might have said the opposite only a few hours earlier.</p>
<p>His fingers grip John's hips a little tighter once John had grabbed his, taking a small step to guide both of them backwards. "Bed?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John has to push up onto the balls of his feet to be able to brush his lips against Dirk's earlobe, and he huffs out a little laugh, muttering right into his ear, "Fuck, man, why do you have to be so <em>tall</em>?" He lowers again to smile at him before deciding, hey, might as well make use of it, and peppering little kisses over his chest. Then Dirk's leading them toward the bed, and John shivers.</p>
<p>"Yeah..." He's half-tempted to scoop him up in his arms and carry him the short distance, but that'd be stupid and also his towel would fall. Still... it's a nice thought. "Want me to carry you? I know it's like three steps, but-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk visibly shivers when John brushes his lips against his earlobe, speaking so close. He'd always had sensitive ears, it was like they were a lightning rod directly down his spine. He passes it off with a soft chuckle at John's (<em>silly and endearing</em>) height dilemma, resting a hand back in his hair as he kisses at his bare chest.</p>
<p>"Yes. Sweep me off my feet, Egbert. I thought you'd never ask." Dirk says the words dryly, but would be embarrassed to admit that they were painfully fucking sincere. But hey, that would be his dirty little secret.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John makes a quick mental note of the reaction to his ears, but figures he can cash in on that when he doesn't have to stand on tip-toes to reach them. So he laughs, a bit more heartily than the situation would have called for, moving around to Dirk's side and giving his towel one determined twist at the clasped area before hooking an arm under Dirk's knees.</p>
<p>He scoops him up easily once he's sure the bed orientation won't be awkward - he'd hate to carry Dirk over just to have his head pointed toward the foot of the bed - and curls his fingers around his ribs to keep him upright.</p>
<p>It's still a little annoying that the taller man is still too high up to kiss, even in his arms, but that's cool. John takes his time, just enjoying the weight in his arms, as he slowly walks to the bed. "I could do a lap of the apartment if you don't want me to put you down right away." He also keeps his tone jokey while secretly wanting to do exactly that, not yet ready to spread him out on the bed even with the risk of the towel already loosening around his hips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk's eyes could have filled with stars and hearts and it still wouldn't have rivaled the pleasant swoop he felt in the pit of his stomach when John hefted him so easily off the ground. He had enough of a mind to be embarrassed by how fucking easy he was to swoon at a display of strength like this. It wasn't even a sex thing, really. Sure, it was hot. But it mostly just made his gay little heart flutter in his chest. That was... sort of worrying.</p>
<p>He simply raises a brow, appearing entirely un-swooned, his voice all deadpan and monotone. It's sort of thwarted by the smile curling at the corner of his lip though. "I'm having the time of my life here, Egbert, don't get me wrong. But there's no need to be a show-off."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John snickers as he reaches the bed. "Fair enough. I mean, I technically never gave you the tour, but my towel is absolutely about to be around my ankles if I take three more steps, so I guess it's for the best.</p>
<p>He bends at the waist to gently lower Dirk to the bed (It takes everything in him not to drop the man and watch him bounce, but he's starting to feel a little less playful and a little more... something else). Once he slips his arms back out from under him, John huffs and fixes his towel for a third and potentially final time since he's losing patience with it, before climbing up over Dirk. He rests on his knees beside Dirk's waist, tilted slightly toward his head because he doesn't know if he wants to straddle him, then drops to his hands, placing them just above Dirk's shoulders so he can press another kiss into the soft tissue behind his earlobe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I wouldn't compla<em>in.</em>" Dirk murmurs, a slight hitch in his voice when John presses his lips to the sensitive skin behind his ear, but it was subtle enough for Dirk to play it off like nothing happened. Which, he sort of wanted to. It was embarrassing to get genuinely hot and bothered just from some chaste little pecks.</p>
<p>He busies himself with sliding his hands down John's broad chest. They didn't linger long though, and he was at his towel again - less because of his own eagerness, and more that it was starting to restrict John awkwardly. "Let it drop."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luckily for Dirk, he's too into the moment to catch any reaction. John pours a lot of focus into kissing and sliding his mouth along the curve of cartilage, plucking the earlobe first with his lips, then teeth. He sighs into it again when Dirk's hands pass over his chest, and his breath stutters when they reach his towel.</p>
<p>"Well, <em>alright</em>..." John smiles as he sits up, flustered and glasses on a tilt as he squeezes the edge of it so he can safely straddle Dirk after all. He rolls his eyes at his own nervousness, but still bends low to press a kiss to Dirk's chest <em>specifically</em> so his head is in the way as he plucks the cloth off and drops it over the side of the bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk was beginning to feel warmth blossom over his face when John pays such close attention to his ear with his mouth, eyes fluttering shut. He was sort of crumbling embarrassingly fast, but manages to pull it to together when John moves away. He is completely enraptured by John as he straddles him properly, all flushed with his glasses askew, and the sight goes directly to his dick. <em>Fuck,</em> he wanted this dork to ruin him.</p>
<p>...Hm. Maybe the teasing kisses around his ear were getting him a little eager after all.</p>
<p>He shakes off his sudden, feral desire in favor of sticking to their slow build-up. His fingers curl on John's hips, fingertips pressing firm into the warm skin as the towel drops. He couldn't exactly see anything though, because John's mop of hair was suddenly directly in his line of sight. He compensates by letting his hands travel, up to the small of John's back and down along his thighs, his ass just barely, shamefully out of reach at this angle. "Was that so bad?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John snickers and pulls his glasses off, cradling them in one hand as he continues to keep his head in the way. He's not sure why he's so bashful about it; Dirk should have already seen his dick in at least one of the pictures and the video clip, poorly focused though it might have been. It just feels different now.</p>
<p>He laughs again and tilts his head up, chin against Dirk's chest so he can squint at him. "Don't patronize me, dude." Obviously he'll have to get up at some point, but he doesn't mind playing this out for a few more seconds. An expression of concentration crosses his face, and John slides his hand up and down Dirk's stomach without seeing, then moves even lower over his own boxers. It's too awkward to actually feel him up with the current position, but damn does John try.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk quirks a brow at John as he watches him rest his chin on his chest, and...</p>
<p>"What are you doing right now?" He huffs a slight laugh, hands giving a light squeeze to John's thighs as the other man's fumble around his hips. He meets his eyes, a moment of pause as he got lost in the blue. It was sort of cute, that expression of such intense concentration on his face while he did such a dumb thing. "...Actually. Forget I asked."</p>
<p>Dirk shifts, one of his legs shifting to brace his foot on the bed, the other wrapping around John's waist. He flips their position in one smooth motion, John's back now to the bed. His hands settle on either side of John's chest as he dips down to press his lips to his once again. Much better.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John laughs quietly, still not paying much attention as he searches for his target. Which is why he's so thrown off when he finds himself on his back after a whirl of movement. John stares up at the ceiling, which turns into Dirk while he's sure he's making another embarrassing face, surprise stretched out over him. "Oh, <em>bastard</em>!" But his laughter only grows, sputtering just a little into the kiss until he can return it properly.</p>
<p>He reorients himself quickly enough, sighing as he wraps his arms loosely around Dirk's back, one hand slipping up to stroke through his product-free hair. After a moment, he tilts his head away, palming the mattress until he can find the glasses that he dropped during the flip. "Damn... They get in the way, but I kinda wanna be able to see you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk chuckles softly at having caught John so off guard, nipping teasingly at his lower lip. He doesn't chase as John tilts his head away to break the kiss and find his glasses. Instead, his lips land on John's jaw, trailing down to his neck.</p>
<p>"I'm flattered." Dirk teases, murmuring against his skin. He gets to work at the crook of John's neck and shoulder, sucking a mark into the skin as he shifts his weight down to his elbows. His hips didn't quite line up naturally with John's, so instead, he pressed one of his legs between John's thighs comfortably.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He finds them partially under his thigh, rolling his eyes when the lens is smudged - of course they'd get dirty minutes after cleaning them. But John wipes them on his clean sheet below himself, flicking the arms out and pulling the glasses on. Just in time to roll his head back when Dirk slips his knee up against him.</p>
<p>John sucks in a breath, back arching off the bed for a moment; he'd been half-hard for what felt like most of the night (but really only since the nachos) but he knows he's starting to fill out more. "That's not fair - you have an advantage here." He can't really reach anything to kiss with Dirk working on his neck, the best he can do is press a little peck against his temple. He does enjoy rubbing his nose in Dirk's hair, but that's not enough right now, so while he continues pushing his fingers into his hair he works his other hand down, at first needily hooking them behind his thigh and pulling his leg a little closer, then up to slowly push at the waistband of the boxers.</p>
<p>It's obviously awkward because he can't quite reach very well, but John sits up enough that his hand can slide down around the curve of Dirk's ass, pushing the fabric with it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk only hums in response, shifting his hips in response to the hand slipping the boxers down his ass. Unfortunately for John though, he didn't have any intention of keeping it in John's reach for very long. He had a very specific objective, and it was to get John's dick in his mouth as soon as possible.</p>
<p>The boxers remained in their halfway on, halfway off state as Dirk's mouth trailed a purposeful path down from John's neck. His lips brushed his chest, down along his stomach, until he settled comfortably at his hips. His hands spread John's thighs further, but his mouth stayed chaste at his hipbone, glancing up at him. "An advantage? I don't know what you mean. This is a level playing field, Egbert."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John is perfectly content with his palmful of bare butt that he makes the mistake of enjoying it too long. So when Dirk starts shuffling down, he doesn't consider the man's intentions until he's past the sternum, too upset with the loss. He pouts, tries to aim a pleading expression at Dirk, but by then he's working down his belly and John is smacked in the face with his realization. "Ah."</p>
<p>He's more red from his awkward, choked little noise than anything else. "That's a total lie and you <em>know</em> it, Dirk." John huffs, a nervous little smile on his lips, as he keeps one hand in Dirk's hair on his way down - what else was he supposed to do? "You uh. You beat me to it, dude. Stole my plan right out from under me, fucking literally."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Sorry, bro. You snooze you lose." Dirk smiles against his hip, his eyes not leaving John's face for a second as he watches his realization sink in, and the redness spill over his cheeks. That noise that he let out did something deep in the pit of Dirk's stomach. It was exactly what he liked to hear.</p>
<p>He took his sweet time getting his mouth on John's dick, enjoying the thrill of being a complete fucking tease. Eventually though, one of his hands lightly gripped the base of John's length, and he dragged his tongue torturously slow from base to tip, careful of his piercing. His amber eyes lidded, but held strong to John's.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John laughs a little more freely, pressing his hands up under his glasses to momentarily cover his red face. "Aw, come <em>on</em>, Strider. What the heck am I supposed to do way up here?" He actually giggles for a moment, giddy from the attention, and it chokes off into a groan when Dirk touches him.</p>
<p>"Jesus..." He adjusts his glasses again, pushing up onto one elbow so he can more easily stare down as Dirk runs his tongue over him. "I... I mean it, man, I like taking a more active role. Not that, uhhhh. <em>Shit</em>, not that I'm complaining, I just never know what to do when the attention's all on me..." He licks his lips, voice trailing off into a breathy whisper by the end of the statement. His fingernails scrape Dirk's scalp gently, like he's petting a cat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk's eyes <em>do</em> close at that, the feeling of John's nails on his head incredibly nice. He'd always been a sucker for getting his hair played with. Or pulled. Whatever. His tongue flits briefly over the head of his cock, purposefully nudging the ball of his piercing against his slit.</p>
<p>He stops just long enough to speak, peeking up at him momentarily. "You have an all-access pass to dominate the shit out of me after this, if you're so inclined. But for now," Dirk says, punctuating his words with another light kiss to John's hip. "Relax. I'm sucking your dick."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John hisses a breath through his teeth, spine curving as he resists the urge to buck his hips up into Dirk's mouth. "Ah... I mean if that's what you want, man- I was gonna spoil you a bit instead, but that's cool too." Dirk <em>absolutely</em> has an unfair advantage, especially with that stud in his tongue. He breathes out another laugh, letting himself lie back again so he can touch Dirk with both hands.</p>
<p>It sucks only being able to reach to his shoulders, but John makes do. He slides his fingertips over an ear, curls a palm around Dirk's cheek, presses his thumb against the corner of his mouth, even as his dick swells and throbs in the man's hand. "Alright... consider me relaxed. I won't stay relaxed for <em>long</em>, but that's what you want, right?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk lips upward in a secret little smile, tilting his head just slightly to press a kiss to the pad of John's thumb. He doesn't respond, but he doesn't have to. He hefts himself a bit higher on his elbow, his upper lip covering his teeth as he takes the tip of John's dick into his mouth.</p>
<p>He lets out a soft noise around him, finally feeling that familiar weight on his tongue. His eyes flutter closed, his tongue flattening against the shaft as he picks up a leisurely rhythm of bobbing his head, his hand settling on John's pelvis as he frames the base of his cock with spread fingers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John shudders, knees bending up on either side of Dirk. Toes curl into the bedclothes, and John keeps touching him wherever he can, trying to convey without words just how good he feels. Because he doesn't really know how to put it in words anyway.</p>
<p>One of his hands slides up from Dirk's hair, stroking over his belly and chest before he slings his elbow across his forehead. John's slowly rocking his hips now, still careful not to do anything selfish or uncomfortable. "Jus' what are you trying to prove, Dirk?" He lightly tugs at his hair, peeking out from under his arm and under the bottom rim of his glasses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk's only response is to take John deeper into his mouth, until the tip was probing at the entrance to his throat. He did, at one point in his life, have a terrible gag reflex. But because he was himself, he couldn't stand the thought of not being able to do something, and trained himself right the fuck out of it. Still though, he had to be mindful and take his time. He was great at sucking dick, sure, but he wasn't a fucking god.</p>
<p>It took a few moments, his steady rhythm slowing, until he was able to take John's dick all the way to the hilt. His nose met his fingers, and he opened his eyes once again to look up at John. If he could answer, it most definitely would have been: '<em>This.</em>'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He'd been enjoying the shallow bobbing up until that point, but as soon as Dirk started taking him deeper, both John's hands left him to clutch at the bed on either side of him. No one had ever done this for him before, so it's not an overstatement to say it was <em>kind of intense</em>.</p>
<p>John inhales, filling his lungs in an attempt to focus on something other than his dick literally being swallowed, because if he thought too hard about it he'd surely thrust up into Dirk, and he knew that'd be a shitty thing to do. He stares down at the other man, a little shocked, a little in awe, but flushed all the way down his chest either way. "Jesus, Dirk!" His voice twists into a high moan, and his lips tuck down a little from the embarrassment. "How th'fuck am I supposed to compete with that!" He laughs a little, belly tensing. "I can barely give good head as is with my dumbass teeth, god<em>damn</em>."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk breathes something that sounds like a laugh through his nose, watching the expressions flash across John's face with rapt attention. It had heat swirling in the pit of his stomach - the flush spreading all the way from his cheeks to his chest. It was an excellent look on him, and it was all the motivation that Dirk needed to keep going. He sort of wishes it was possible for John to touch him right now too, but fuck, the way he was looking at him was entirely worth the lack of friction.</p>
<p>Dirk's eyes closed, pulling back enough to bob his head comfortably again, the hand not propping him up moving to curl under John's thigh and give a slight squeeze, picking up the pace a little and working up a rhythm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tilts his head back again, mostly out of exasperation when it sounds like Dirk is laughing at him. "C'mon, man, it's not <em>funny</em>!" But he giggles too, falling back heavily and pulling at his own hair. "<strong>Relax</strong>, my <em>ass</em>, you bastard." He didn't think he'd get so worked up so fast, but his breathing is already coming out in pants, thighs pressing in around Dirk and squeezing, stroking his skin in reflexive little tensing movements.</p>
<p>John's hips tilt forward with each slide down, and John's starting to moan a little more often. "Cheeky fucker... I'm <em>not</em> gonna get off from this, you hear me? That's not a challenge dude, that's a <em>plea</em>. Don't do it for too long, I wanna have a turn." His hand slips right back into Dirk's hair, fingers curling around the back of his skull until he's gently pressing them against the base where it meets his spine. He's a little embarrassed by the amount of pre he can feel trickling into Dirk's throat, but he's determined to make this last.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk would have smiled if he could have. Jesus, why was John being <em>cute</em> when he was getting his dick sucked, and making his arousal get all tangled with the warm fluttering in his chest?</p>
<p>He can taste the pre on the back of his tongue and moans softly around him, the vibrations surely running straight through John's dick. He tips his head slightly at the fingers in his hair, almost leaning into it. Unfortunately for John, the not-challenge hit Dirk's ears as the polar opposite. Not getting off like this, huh? He'd see about that.</p>
<p>Dirk alternates between bobbing his head and taking John into his throat, swallowing when he could. There was a bit of drool starting to run down his chin, but he didn't really give enough of a shit to care that his face was getting wet and messy. In his experience, that just meant his head was exceptional.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That moan sends jolts of electricity all the way up his spine, and John loses himself for a moment. His head falls back against the pillow, eyes closed and mouth open, breathing heavily. He moans quietly, a soft whimpering sound, and his hand rests heavy on Dirk's head for a moment, not pushing, but definitely holding him. He tugs his hand away, instead squeezing Dirk's shoulder as he tries to reign it in.</p>
<p>He could get off to this. Easily. Another several minutes and he'd be putty, but that's not what John wants for the first time they hook up. So he shoves himself back into a lounging position, pushing gently at Dirk's shoulder. "Alright, you made your point, come on... Get up, it's my turn." It's barely louder than a breathy whisper, and John stares down at Dirk, stroking his cheek and trying to get his thumb under to swipe away the little bit of mess.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John was apparently determined enough to still able to speak at this point, which mostly conveyed to Dirk that he wasn't doing his job. But as much as he wanted to reduce John to a trembling mess with just his mouth, he was obliged to stop. At least for a few seconds, to push his limits.</p>
<p>"Make me," Dirk teases. He opens his eyes, the arm that was propping him up going slack once he pulled off. Though, he didn't go far. He busied himself pressing open mouthed kisses to the shaft, his now free hand idly stroking at the base.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John purses his lips at the other man, squinting down at him and only breaking the expression to gasp as apparently Dirk wasn't done just yet. "Come <em>on</em>. Stubborn ass." The gentle shoulder shoving turns into a smack - not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to cause a sharp sound to echo around his room.</p>
<p>"You know, if that's a genuine challenge, then you're really going to regret it." He tries to laugh again, but he becomes far too focused on the sensation of his soft lips. "I'll... throw you across the room if I have to, Strider." It doesn't sound as determined as he did moments ago.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk jolts slightly at the smack, and it was apparently enough to make him stop, as he gave John a squint of his own. Though, there was still that barely-there upturn of his lips. "Don't threaten me with a good time, Egbert."</p>
<p>His hand still stroked John's dick as he ran his mouth, and Dirk could tell already that John's determination was swaying. If he wanted him to cum like this, John would probably let him get him there, if he kept it up. At the <em>very</em> least, he highly doubted he would get thrown anywhere.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He barks out a laugh, head tossed back more in pleasure than amusement, savoring the touch while he can. It'd be so much easier if Dirk was dressed; he could just grab a fistful of his shirt and lift him that way. But with the other man nearly nude and the only clothes being out of reach, John has to improvise.</p>
<p>He stares down at Dirk, intense as he swipes his tongue across his lips, then flattens his legs until he can worm them under his chest. It doesn't go as well as he'd like, really only bumping up against Dirk's sides, so he gives up on that and instead throws his upper body forward, hooking his hands in Dirk's armpits, and <em>pulling</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A surprised noise escaped Dirk when he was wrenched so matter of factly <em>upward,</em> his torso sliding against John's until his head was suddenly on his chest, his hand still awkwardly trapped between the two of them. His other hand scrabbled, gripping John's bicep.</p>
<p>...Okay, scratch that. Maybe John wasn't crumbling under him as much as he'd initially thought. This guy was just packed full of surprises, and this one in particular made Dirk's dick twitch in his boxers.</p>
<p>"...Alright. Point taken."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hated the decision for a few reasons; the negative being that their nearly-dry skin pulled against one anothers' unpleasantly, and would absolutely chafe if they kept that up. The positive meant that Dirk was mostly sliding directly over his bare dick, pressing it up against his belly.</p>
<p>He clutches Dirk to himself for a moment afterward, catching his breath and trying <em>not</em> to grind against his hips. "Okay. Fuck. Cool." Once he's no longer breathing heavily and has a little of his control returning, John tries to slip out from under him. "Any requests?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Requests?" Dirk does not resist the urge to grind his hips against John's, his eyes briefly falling shut at the simulation he was finally able to get a little bit of. He breathes his next words with just as much of his perfectly crafted composure as always. Composure or no, though, he didn't seem to put a whole lot of thought into his answer. "Uh, fuck me. That's pretty much the long and short of it, man."</p>
<p>He doesn't <em>not</em> let John move out from underneath him, but he doesn't really do much to help the effort either, aside from letting go of his arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John laughs and pauses his attempted escape to squeeze Dirk's hips and help the two of them get a little more out of it, then strokes them over his back and finally cop a feel. He resists the urge to 'nice' again. "That's it, huh? I kinda had the impression you'd be hard to please."</p>
<p>He works again at pushing those boxers down. "Okay, so like. Do you want me to use my hand or my mouth then?" John's face darkens at just that simple question that he didn't even detail.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk shrugs a shoulder while John gets handsy, leaning up to press his lips briefly to John's neck as he considers it. John wasn't too far off with that guess, if only because the things that pleased him most were a little too much for some people's delicate hearts to handle. Or, maybe he just didn't hook up with enough sadists. "That's up for debate."</p>
<p>At the vague question, Dirk gave John a look that was partially amused, and partially puzzled. He lifts his hips to help John remove his boxers, before getting up on his knees to take them off entirely. He kicked them onto the floor, straddling John's lap properly now that he could, sitting back on his thighs. "You're going to have to be a little more specific with that one, babe."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Huh... Maybe we can debate it sometime, then." John considers his options as he watches Dirk strip the last bit of clothing between them. He admires the view, of course he does, but sighs when his freedom is lost again. He had <em>plans</em>, dammit.</p>
<p>"Wow, Strider, for most people that's a pretty obvious answer to choose." He strokes his hands over Dirk's body, not hiding how intently he's looking at him. When he spots a scar across one hip, he slides his thumb over it, then busies himself looking for others to touch. "But when you pick, you're going to have to get on your hands and knees for me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Alright, smartass."</p>
<p>Dirk lets John touch over his torso without complaint, the sensation of his fingers brushing the light skin of his scars feeling dulled through the healed tissue. Eventually, he brings himself to crawl off of John's thighs, his dick hard against his stomach as he settles on his elbows and knees beside John. "Your mouth. I'll admit, I didn't take you for a face down ass up sort of guy."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm not, actually. But I figure it'll be easier to do this that way. I've never done it before, so I don't think I'm advanced enough for you to sit on my face yet." He chokes out another almost-awkward laugh before pushing himself up onto his knees and crawling behind Dirk. "I mean, that's considering you're up for me trying? We just showered so I figure it's fine right?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Facesitting isn't exactly rocket science." Dirk quips, laying his head down on folded arms. He shifts his stance on his knees, getting comfortable as he basically presents himself to John. It was an incredibly vulnerable position, and he'd have half a mind to be embarrassed about it if the exposure didn't give him such a thrill. If he had an objection about the proposition of John eating him out - which he very much didn't -he didn't voice it. "But we can work up to it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John doesn't say anything for a minute, too wrapped up in staring at Dirk while he's exposed to him like this. He wraps his hands around the backs of Dirk's thighs, sliding them slowly up until he can press his thumbs between the crease of his ass. For a moment he just enjoys having two palmfuls of <em>prime plush rump</em>, but he can't resist the urge to spread him open.</p>
<p>"Uh. Still sounds kind of awkward to me, man. But I'd be down for working up to it." If he... actually enjoyed this, that is. It was totally hot in concept, but John can't help but be a little... reserved about putting his mouth on an asshole. "Do you like this kinda thing? I mean, either giving or receiving." He squishes his hands together so he can brush the tip of his thumb over his hole.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The silence Dirk was met with had warmth prickling over his cheeks, more with arousal than embarrassment, because he knew John was just <em>staring.</em> He was just about to open his mouth to tell John something along the lines of 'Take a picture, it'll last longer,' but realizes quickly that that was sort of in bad taste. John was eventually speaking up to fill the silence anyway, his hands spreading his ass and thumb grazing his hole, leaving Dirk to shift impatiently.</p>
<p>"I enjoy both. I tend to receive less than I give." A brief pause. "When it comes to rimming, at least."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Is that by choice, or can your partners just not resist this choice butt?" He laughs a little, shamefully, at his joke as he squeezes with one hand a little tighter than he intended. John situates himself more comfortably soon after, letting him go momentarily so he can be a little selfish and touch himself; he was still pretty riled up after having Dirk's mouth on him, but he knew he could wait a bit longer.</p>
<p>"What other things do you prefer to receive, then?" When he's kneeling comfortably between Dirk's feet, sitting back on his ankles, John spreads him again and decides to bite the bullet. But in the most awkward way possible - he leans close, holding his breath as he presses a soft little kiss right to his rim.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk's fingers curled into his own forearm as John pulled away, however briefly. He was just growing more impatient by the second, his body tense and dick sort of aching from the lack of contact. He tries not to sound like he's griping when he speaks up - it comes out more exasperated than anything. "Do you normally talk this much during sex, John?"</p>
<p>He's a bit sated when John spreads him again, his eyes instinctively closing as he waits for that first sweep of tongue, but. Instead he gets a sugary sweet little butterfly kiss.</p>
<p>"John."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Haha, yeah. Sorry, but you're just going to have to get used to it." Every time one of them makes a reference to this happening again, John feels fluttery - he doesn't know if he's stepping over a line or anything, but so far Dirk hasn't questioned it, so he's content with letting it play out.</p>
<p>The contact lingers as John tries to decide if he's into it. Sure, having his face buried in someone's ass was pretty hot, but he's still trying not to think of all the awkward things that could happen right now. Dirk says his name, clearly unamused, and John leans back to sigh against him. "Shh, I'm working up to it man." He gives Dirk's butt a little pat before pushing both thumbs a little more insistently against his hole, <em>just barely</em> pulling it open and finally gets the courage to press the flat top of his tongue against it. He doesn't move at first, but eventually gives him a solid lick.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk twitches until the warmth of John's tongue is <em>finally</em> pressing against him, and breathes out a small sigh of relief through his nose. Tongue. Tongue was good. He was more than a little impatient to get John's mouth on him, and this was a great introduction.</p>
<p>He shifts to lift on one of his elbows, leaving one of his arms free. He reaches behind him, his fingers threading briefly through John's hair. He doesn't hold him there - that was a step too far too fast, Dirk hadn't missed that this was his first time rimming - just sort of pets him with encouragement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He takes that to be a very good sign, and John does what he can to push his head up into his hand without moving too far away. So far he hasn't had anything uncomfortable happen, so John tries a few more experimental swipes of his tongue. He's not sure if going down on a girl really gives him any experience he can use here, so he's pretty much going in blind. After wiggling the tip of his tongue against the pucker, he has an idea.</p>
<p>He wraps his hand around Dirk's wrist and leans back. "Hey, since you can reach back here, can you hold yourself open for me?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk was starting to get into it as John experimented, the tension in his body starting to relax with every brush of John's tongue. At least, until John pulled off again to speak, and Dirk opened his eyes.</p>
<p>He wordlessly complies with the request, relinquishing all leverage he had with his arms as he reaches back to spread himself for John. If there was any way to improve on his previous position, it would be this way. There was a significant spike in the exposure, paired with a loss of control of his upper half - his cheek and shoulders pressed flat to the bed in a way reminiscent of the way they would if his hands were bound. He idly found himself wondering if John would ever be interested in restraining him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John <em>absolutely</em> enjoys this position, especially now that his hands were free to roam. "Damn alright, just needed one hand free but this works too. Better even, I think." He strokes his palms up and down Dirk's back for a moment, tongue back on him, before one of his arms snakes between Dirk's thighs. He smiles into him before cupping his sac gently, fingertips sliding up and down along his shaft. If he's not that good at eating him out, then he at least has a backup for making Dirk feel good.</p>
<p>But now that he has <em>both</em> hands free, John isn't very sure what to do with it. He could touch himself, sure, but he could also use it to try and make a mess out of Dirk. It's too bad his lube is in his desk drawer up at the head of the bed. "Hold up. Sorry I keep breaking the buildup - poor foresight I guess. But... You can hold this pose for a bit, right?" John climbs out of bed, giving the back of Dirk's thigh a spank (since his hands were in the way) before taking his time rummaging through the drawer that had the lube and a handful of condoms clearly in sight. "Hmm... Where is it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk feels a slight tingle at John's verbal appreciation. He didn't have a praise kink, but it was nice to be lusted after. graces John with the smallest exhale of a moan when his now free hands slide to tease his cock and fondle his balls, that pinprick of desperation stinging within him once again. He liked to think he had plenty of patience with John up to this point - since he wasn't about to beg for shit, not when he still had his wits about him - and it was paying off in spades when John finally touched him with his tongue and fingertips exactly how he'd been needing.</p>
<p>And then, he fucking pulls away again, and Dirk is just a metaphorical millimeter away from grabbing him by the hair and dragging him back in.</p>
<p>Dirk does not hold the pose, (despite the smack to his thigh igniting a small voice in the back of his mind to do <em>exactly</em> what he was told) settling down onto his stomach and narrowing his eyes. John couldn't see that, though. Dirk's face was pressed flat to the bed, his voice muffled by the mattress.</p>
<p>"John, I like you, so I'm saying this in the nicest way I can. If you don't hurry the fuck up, I'm pinning you to this bed and sucking your cock until you come down my throat, and I get myself off."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John's lips purse when Dirk drops down, and he's about to do something dumb like playfully scold him, but his words have John scrambling through the drawer, snatching the water-based lubricant and a couple extra condoms, 'just in case'. "Fuck, alright! Bossy. I knew you were demanding in bed."</p>
<p>He jumps back onto the mattress with a breathless laugh and tosses the little pile of items down beside himself before lifting Dirk up by his hips back into position. He pops the cap to slick up the fingers of both hands before diving back into it. Dirk's probably getting frustrated by this point, so it's probably not a good idea to make any more demands. John decides it's best to just get on with it; the whole night has already felt like buildup, so now he was just being a tease.</p>
<p>His fingers do a quick obligatory pass over Dirk's ass, slicking him up before John smooshes his face between them. One of his hands hovers behind Dirk while the other returns between his thighs.</p>
<p>It's kind of exuberant, the way he returns to the rimming, and John makes himself calm down. Despite Dirk's impatience, rushing foreplay was never enjoyable. John licks him again, slowly but with enough pressure that he's just barely pushing into him with each pass upward. The whole point was to get him relaxed, so when the tip of his tongue no longer meets much resistance, John tilts his head up so his fingers can slip between his chin and Dirk's butt. His middle finger rubs a circle around the rim before pushing slowly into him.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, the hand below Dirk is rubbing his cock up against his belly, getting the whole area slick and messy while only using his palm. When John pushes the first finger into him, he also curls his hand, squeezing the base tightly and dragging upward.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk resists the urge to roll his eyes right the fuck out of his head. "I'm not demanding. You're just being a fucking tease, and I want your dick in me."</p>
<p>His hands instinctively move to brace himself when John pulls him back up onto his knees, and he's unable to keep a gasp from leaving his mouth when John's mouth is on him again. It was like going zero to sixty in two seconds flat, the way John was so eager. But Dirk definitely wasn't complaining - not anymore, at least.</p>
<p>It didn't take much to get Dirk to relax once John had gotten his rhythm going - barely audible noises spilling from his lips as John works him open on his surprisingly skilled tongue - and a genuine moan slipped out of Dirk at the potent combination of John's finger pressing in, and hand finally gripping his dick. <em>That's</em> what he'd been waiting for.</p>
<p>"Fuck, John."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John laughs as he presses his finger into him, glad he can't see how smug he looks. He mutters an 'mhmm' into Dirk's asscheek before kissing it and moving back in, licking around his finger. He keeps the pace somewhat slow, pumping just the one into him and licking, kissing the slightly stretched skin around it, turning his focus to the hand on his dick instead.</p>
<p>Once the slow slide of his fingers reaches just under the head, he twists his wrist so he can push his thumb into the sensitive spot under the ridge. John doesn't spend too long there; he swipes his finger over the slit before dragging his grip firmly down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk shudders, his head hanging limply between his biceps as John's thumb expertly prods right under the head of his cock. The flush on his face was beginning to spread outward over freckled shoulders, to the tips of his ears. Where was this skill thirty minutes ago?</p>
<p>He didn't even mind the slow pace John was keeping with his finger, because he was gradually melting underneath his attention. His breathing was starting to come a little faster - he was typically pretty quiet during things like this - his hips shifting occasionally to press back against him. One of his hands moved back to slip into John's hair again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's a damn shame John can't see the color painting over Dirk's skin, but he's not at a total loss; turns out rimming was pretty enjoyable as long as they both washed up. His other hand starts up a rhythm as well, fingers loosely curled around his dick as he beats him off. Not having any hands free meant he couldn't hold the one in his hair, so he tilts his head to press a wet kiss (mostly from the lube) onto the first stretch of skin he could reach.</p>
<p>It's starting to have an affect on John as well; he pants through his nose, keeping his face back a couple inches so he can rub his index finger in alongside the middle one, watching Dirk stretch out around them. "Would you get mad if I bit you a little?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No, fuck." Dirk answers automatically when he feels the second finger pressing into him, breathless (and borderline <em>eager</em>) as he spoke. "Be as rough as you want with me. I can take it."</p>
<p>His hand blindly cups John's cheek, thumb brushing over the line of his jaw, before it was retreating back to grip at the sheets beneath him. Pre was practically dripping from his cock at this point, slicking John's fingers on every upstroke.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John chases the touch with his mouth, a little disappointed when Dirk pulls away. But he still smiles at the approval, brushing his lips over his skin almost gleefully. John doesn't so much draw it out, remembering Dirk's 'threat', but he does take a moment to just kiss him while he works his second fingertip into him.</p>
<p>His hand leaves Dirk's cock only for a moment, slippery fingers holding his hip still as he pushes both into him in one thrust, teeth biting down on the skin where his ass dips in to his inner thigh. It's a little clumsy, and his glasses are kinda mashed up into Dirk's butt, but John enjoys it. He sucks for a moment, wrist working a little above his head to stretch Dirk open as he leaves a bright pink mark. He'd try to make it darker, but it's just a bad position. Maybe if Dirk were on his belly or even his back with his knees bent to his chest. He pulls away in time to lick between his fingers, spreading them wide and flicking the tip of his tongue into Dirk's hole.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Holy shit," Dirk breathes. He moans lowly at the pleasant stretch of John's spread fingers and the hot flick of his tongue inside. His thigh twitched at the bite, and based on the way he felt John's lips seal, he'd have a nice mark to remember it by.</p>
<p>He shifted the placement of his knees, consequently spreading himself wider for John in the process. In all honesty, he didn't need too much opening up. He enjoyed the slight sting of taking dick when he wasn't <em>quite</em> prepped all the way. But John was a fucking natural at this, and he wasn't about to ask him to stop.</p>
<p>Instead, his own hand slipped under himself to take his cock in hand now that John's had taken residence on his hip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John moans with him, removing his fingers so he can push both thumbs into Dirk and pull him open. He kind of forgets what he's currently doing, pushing his glasses into his hair so he can go to town. John bares his teeth, lips pulling out of the way so he can shove as close to him as possible.</p>
<p>He doesn't have any real goal in mind other than getting as deep into him as he can, licking into Dirk and hoping he's actually doing something enjoyable. He'd ask Dirk how it was going if his mouth was free and also if he wasn't starting to lose himself in the action.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk struggles to keep up the rhythm of his own strokes as John presses his tongue into him, the moan John let out going directly to his dick. John really seemed to be getting into it - and that in and of itself was hot enough, even without the stimulation of getting fucked on his tongue. And if Dirk's breathless panting had anything to say for it, he was getting into it too. John hadn't even grazed his prostate yet, but he was already this desperate for more.</p>
<p>"J-John, John." He huffs out to get John's attention and looked over his shoulder as well as he could, whatever composure he'd managed to keep in his voice before long gone, now. He could be embarrassed about that later. "Fuck me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tries curling his tongue back on itself to make it thicker while sacrificing the length, and it's not as satisfying as he'd hoped so John pulls away just before Dirk urges him to get a move on. He spreads the other man apart again, one more time, and seals his lips around the skin of his hole in an unwieldy attempt at sucking him; there's a half a moment where it works, but the shape of his mouth isn't exactly ideal for the job, so John pulls back after another decent bite on the meat of his ass.</p>
<p>He leans away to look, and the sight of Dirk's butt with a bitemark on the thickest part of the curve makes him want to giggle just because it's such a dumb image. But all he manages is a stuttered gasp because Dirk looks <em>so fucking good</em> right now. "God, yeah... I want you on your back, though." He doesn't give him time to do it himself, curling his palm over Dirk's hip and pushing him to the side, then tugging at his legs to help get him into a comfortable position. If he were a little more comfortable with him, maybe more confident in knowing what Dirk liked, he'd shove his hand away from his own dick, mutter something about not telling him he could do that, but for now he just enjoys watching it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk is pliant as John rolls him onto his back. He doesn't let himself settle though, propping himself up long enough to lightly grip the back of John's neck, pulling him into a kiss. There was a sort of fervor in the way he moved, and if John didn't think he was eager before, he definitely would now.</p>
<p>His free hand blindly reaches for the condom where John had dropped it - a few of them, actually, for whatever reason - eventually finding it and taking it between two fingers to press into John's hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As soon as Dirk's in a good position for him, John starts feeling around on the bed to their side, looking for the condoms he'd grabbed earlier. But Dirk distracts him thoroughly with that kiss, and John gets lost enough in the passion that he completely forgets what he was trying to do as he returns it.</p>
<p>His hands stroke up and down Dirk's chest as they kiss, touching him wherever he can and showing his appreciation without words when the packet finds its way into his palm. Ah, <em>that's</em> what he was doing. John moans into their kiss, sucking Dirk's lower lip between his and releasing him with a little sigh before he sits back on his haunches. He tears the condom open carefully, pinching the reserve tip and rolling it on before feeling for the little jar of lubrication. "Okay?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk melts into the kiss, winding his free arm around John's neck. A tingle of electricity follows John's hands as he runs them over his chest, and Dirk had just began to press his tongue into John's mouth when he pulls away. He nearly chases his lips with his own, but manages to resist the urge. He was eager, but he wasn't <em>that</em> eager.</p>
<p>He lets his hands settle on John's hips, watching him with rapt interest as he tears open the condom and rolls it on. The sight alone had just stomach giving an excited little flip. Dirk gives a quick, affirmative nod. "Yeah."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once he's slicked himself up, John only hesitates long enough to decide what he wants to do with Dirk's legs - he could pull them around his waist, or lift them up onto his elbows or shoulders depending on how flexible Dirk is (and he's pretty sure Dirk is very flexible). He scowls down at him, biting his lip, finally deciding he can bend him in half later. John lowers his hips down against Dirk's, bending to kiss his chest before sliding just a little lower and taking himself in his hand.</p>
<p>"Fuck..." The anticipation alone was thrilling, and when the tip of his dick slides between Dirk's ass, finding his stretched rim moments later, John hangs his head with a low groan. He shifts his knees so he feels more stable in his position, then only holds himself long enough until he can feel Dirk squeezing around him. With a clenched jaw, John kisses his chest again before sliding both hands up under Dirk's thighs, hooking behind his knees so he can use the grip to pull him onto his dick.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding as John sunk into him, his hands moving up settle on John's back, fingers digging into his skin at the pleasant stretch.</p>
<p>He didn't mind this position on his back, particularly because it almost always led to him getting folded in half and having that spot hit <em>just</em> right. He was flexible enough to heft his knees onto John's shoulders when the time came, and he had a feeling that John knew.</p>
<p>Dirk's breath hitched in a gasp when John pulled him down to the hilt, one of his hands traveling up to thread into John's hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He just breathes for a moment, then smiles and leans forward. They're close enough that he doesn't really need his glasses anymore, and John knows for a fact that once he has a decent buildup of sweat they'd just slide off anyway. So he takes them off, folds in the arms, and tosses them toward the little desk. They land with a clatter, but at least they don't hit the floor.</p>
<p>"Sorry for dragging it out so much. I'm kind of into that." His voice is breathy and low, and John leans even further forward, letting his weight rest almost fully on Dirk as he shifts his hips. He groans when it angles his dick a little differently, and John hikes one of Dirk's knees up to get deeper.</p>
<p>He tilts his head down to smack another kiss on his chest, nuzzling into his skin when he doesn't have to worry about his glasses getting in the way. But now he's been putting it off way too long, and was even starting to frustrate himself. So he leaves a little lovebite on Dirk's ribs before leaning back up on his knees. John squeezes a hand around his thigh, adjusting him just a <em>little</em> so he can fit his hips more easily between Dirk's legs. He drags himself back slowly with a sigh, then uses gravity to help rock back down into him again. "Damn, Dirk..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk caught the little smile John gave when he was fully seated, and carded his fingers through his hair almost affectionately. "Being a huge tease, you mean?" He murmurs.</p>
<p>Dirk had enough sense to momentarily be concerned for the sake of John's glasses getting tossed - but it was quickly forgotten when John lifts his leg and presses deeper inside of him. Even the slight adjustment had John's cock nudging him at a much better angle, a low moan escaping from his lips.</p>
<p>"Ah, fuck," He breathes. His eyes lid as John gives the first rock of his hips against his ass, and Dirk shifts to press back against him as well as he could. He wanted him deeper, harder, faster. His nails dig just slightly into his back. "John."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Tomay-to, tomah-to. You can't say you're not at least a little into it. Wouldn't be here otherwise." Once he starts up a slow, deep rhythm, John burrows his hands beneath Dirk's hips so he can rest on his elbows and focus on keeping his lower half rocking down into him. It's slow enough that there aren't a lot of noises from their bodies yet, despite the contact, so John can hear every little sound Dirk is making.</p>
<p>"You got a thing for hair, huh?" He's a little embarrassed with how out-of-breath he sounds, but he still smiles and tries to kiss Dirk's arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk doesn't suggest otherwise - of course he was into it, especially when John knew just how to push his buttons - so instead, he remarks on the thick hair his fingers were so carefully buried in.</p>
<p>"It's... soft. Nice to hold onto." He shifts his hand to the back of John's neck so he could more easily get his lips on his forearm. His own voice wasn't faring much better, low and uneven as John thrust into him nice and slow, but still with a measured amount of composure. At least, until one particular thrust hits him <em>just</em> right, and the gentle hold on John's hair tightens, his nails grazing his scalp. "<em>Fuck,</em> John. Right there. Harder."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John grins, a pleased little smile as he tilts into it like a cat. "Strong roots, too. Can take some serious tugging, if you get my meaning." The sultry tone he's going for is ruined by his snickering.</p>
<p>He's content with the pace for now, expression lazy and content as he smiles down at Dirk, but when the other man tenses it makes him squeeze even tighter around his dick. That paired with the nails digging into his skin makes him gasp, hips slapping down with more force than he intended. The groan that forces its way out of his throat is loud with his mouth hanging open. "Yeah- <em>yeah</em>..." John pushes off his elbows, hooks his arms under Dirk's legs a little to bend his knees, and doubles the pace, hoping he's got the right spot still. He's sure Dirk will let him know if/when he does.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk manages to note that hair tugging tidbit in the back of his mind, but just barely, because John had started to fuck into him at the absolute <em>perfect</em> angle. He cries out - louder than he'd been all night - when John significantly picks up his pace, his fingers grabbing at John's hair and <em>twisting.</em></p>
<p>"<em>Ah</em>, fuck yes, John -" Dirk abruptly cuts off his potential rambling after just those few words. He had a tendency to get a little wordy when he was getting plowed just right, a quirk that he was endlessly embarrassed about when said plowing wasn't actively occurring. His eyes locked onto John's, a carnal, satisfied smirk tugging at his mouth as he pants through parted lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John answers that sound with a low one of his own; he almost mourns when Dirk cuts himself off. Maybe if this became <em>a 'thing'</em>, he could find a way to convince the man that he definitely wanted to hear him. But Dirk probably wouldn't go for it.</p>
<p>John bares his teeth, head angled toward the hand twisting in his hair. It only spurs him on further to slam into him, the telltale sounds of sex starting to really echo around the room. Hopefully, his neighbors were already asleep.</p>
<p>When his eyes open again, John spots the barely blurry look Dirk is giving him and returns it with his own smirk, using his core strength to sit up higher without bracing himself on Dirk. Instead, his hands pull Dirk's thighs higher up, the curve of his thumb to his index finger tucked firmly under his bent knee to push them closer to his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk's face contorts with pleasure the harder John slams into him, a soft litany of little '<em>ah</em>' noises spilling from his lips that he couldn't help but let out.</p>
<p>He could feel the very beginnings of his orgasm starting to twist in his gut, his hands leaving John's hair in favor of raking down his back. He'd need to touch himself a bit first, usually, but with the way John's cock had him such a mess already, he didn't think that getting off just from prostate stimulation alone was that far of a reach this time.</p>
<p>Dirk takes advantage of his flexibility to surge up and press his lips firmly to John's, teeth biting gently at his lower lip before pressing his tongue into his mouth. It was a lot easier now that John was pressing his legs nearly to his chest, but a little difficult to catch his lips in the first place with how vigorously he was being rocked against the mattress.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now that things were going, that pleasure he'd mentally put on hold from when Dirk was sucking him off starts rapidly rearing its head. John's a little nervous that he won't be able to last, especially not when Dirk digs his nails into his skin again. John lets out a guttural groan, returning the kiss clumsily before deciding it'd probably be more comfortable a different way.</p>
<p>He pushes Dirk onto his back again, then walks his hands up his calves until he can squeeze his ankles together and bend his legs up and off to one side. Dirk would probably be twisted at the waist, which meant John has to adjust his position to keep hammering into the right spot. With both legs hanging over one of John's broad shoulders, arm wrapped around his thighs, his other hand slips up to cup the back of Dirk's head so he could have some support to lean down as John pins him with his body so he can continue the kiss. This means most of the momentum for the thrusts comes solely from his hips and thighs. He pants against Dirk's lips every few seconds, exertion breaking their kiss. "God... <em>Dirk</em>, fuck. Feels fucking <em>amazing</em>... Squeeze around me, scratch me up-" He smashes his face into Dirk's shoulder before moving in to kiss him again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk's mouth parts from John's with a wet noise when he was shoved unceremoniously back down against the bed, fucking <em>whimpering</em> as John manually shifted his legs over his shoulder. The new position had his dick trailing a line of precum further up his abdomen with every thrust, even the slight friction leaving Dirk seeing stars.</p>
<p>"Yeah, y-yeah," Dirk huffs out when John breaks the kiss, scrabbling to hook his arm under John's, gripping tight to the shoulder his legs weren't thrown over. His fingers dig into the skin just like John asked, and he didn't even have to try to clench around him - not with the way the tension in the pit of his stomach was rapidly starting to build, making him twitch and gasp under every perfect thrust. "Fuck, <em>fuck, John,</em> please, I'm so close, don't stop -" Dirk begs, and his cries were immediately lost in John's mouth when he presses his lips back to his. He returns the kiss messily, unabashedly moaning against him and etching red lines into his back with his nails.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John keens into the kiss, high and tight in his throat, and the nervousness of finishing too soon ebbs away because Dirk doesn't sound very far off himself. He kisses him roughly, desperately, mostly using his teeth to scrape and nip at his skin. John pushes up onto the balls of his feet, knees barely an inch off the bed but that much giving him even more force behind his movements. The fingers wrapped around Dirk's thighs dig into his skin, squeezing him as they slap together.</p>
<p>He swipes his tongue over Dirk's lower lip before lowering his head back onto the mattress. At first, he just uses it to adjust his position once again, their sweat making him slip a little lower than he wants to be, but then he tries to wiggle his hand between Dirk's belly and lap. His breath punches out of him, in time with the thrusts, and John can barely keep his eyes open, squinting down at Dirk because he <em>needs</em> to see what he looks like when he comes. "Come on, come <em>on</em> Dirk, do it for me, you're so gorgeous, man, I <em>gotta see it</em>, just cum for me-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"John, oh fuck, <em>John</em>-" Dirk was pushed ever closer to the edge with how rough John was getting with him, from the teeth in their kiss to the firm grip on his thighs that an embarrassingly large part of him hoped would leave bruises in the morning; Dirk had no leverage to move or rock back against him, completely at the mercy of John's punishing thrusts. And with every one, Dirk felt the heat in his gut winding tighter, and tighter, his eyes blearily meeting John's, until-</p>
<p>John's hand slipped between Dirk's thighs and stomach and he said those three words. Dirk reached his peak the moment he felt his fingers graze his cock, spilling all over his abdomen and John's hand. The thought of finishing too soon didn't even cross his mind - he'd been waiting all fucking day for this.</p>
<p>Dirk let out a guttural moan when he came, his eyes rolling back as his orgasm slammed into him, gasping as each wave of pleasure shocked through his body. He trembled underneath John as he rode out his climax, his hand gripping tight to his back as the other scrabbles for purchase on John's bicep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh <strong><em>shit-</em></strong>" John gasps, wide eyes on Dirk's expression and surprised at how soon Dirk finishes just from a slight touch. But the surprise is wiped away in favor of just how good it felt to have him twitching and pulsing around his dick with the orgasm. He desperately wants to keep looking at him, but his muscles tighten and immediately go slack as his own peak is reached.</p>
<p>John shouts, head falling forward to thunk down on Dirk's chest as he buries himself. His toes clench in the bedclothes, holding him in place as he releases. The hand that tried to touch him slips back out and flaps around, squeezing tightly around Dirk's arm wherever he grabs first. It might have been embarrassing that his first instinct was to <em>hold Dirk's hand</em> while he came, but he doesn't need to know that.</p>
<p>John's jaw locks, cutting off any other words or noises until he can finally breathe easy again. "Jesus christ, dude..." He kisses the skin where his head landed, rubs his hands up and down Dirk's thighs where he's sure he bruised with his grip, then reaches down to grip the base of his cock, holding the condom in place as he slowly pulls out. "<em>Fuck</em>." Once he's out, he carefully lowers his legs down to the bed in front of him, stroking the skin and rubbing at the muscle in case he cramps up. "Fucking <em>fantastic.</em>"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk pants softly, his eyes heavy-lidded as he melts to jelly underneath him after his shivering aftershocks have come and gone. One of his hands mindlessly strokes the pink welts he's sure he left on John's back with his nails, the other threading right back into that soft hair where John's head rests on his chest.</p>
<p>He lets out a soft noise when John pulls out - he's always hated the sudden emptiness - and he lets his legs drop uselessly down to the bed from John's shoulder. "That's one word for it," Dirk quips as he presses a few kisses to the top of John's head, nuzzling into his hair. John was quite the sight right now as he came down from his high. "You're a great fuck, John."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John winces as well, never liking the feeling of a full condom on a softening dick. He groans as he slips out, still holding the rubber to himself as he shuffles around on one arm, trying to sit up. Of course, Dirk's hand in his hair makes him not really want to go anywhere. ... But he <em>really</em> doesn't want to keep this thing on.</p>
<p>He flushes and peppers a few more kisses to his chest, tilting his head up to smile at Dirk. "Yeah? What word would <em>you</em> use, then?" His smile twists, just a little shy with the praise. "Ahah... I mean, it takes two, right? You gave uh. Just as well as you got, Strider. But hold up, I really gotta toss this." One more kiss and a sigh and John's sitting on the bed, scooting to the edge. His legs are a little weak as well from all the tension in them moments ago, so he half leans, half stumbles to the trashcan on the other side of the bedside table and tosses the spent condom away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk stretches out his legs and props himself up on an elbow, feeling the stickiness from the cum drying on his stomach. "It was worth the wait, I can say that much." He remarks, carding his fingers back through his thoroughly sexed-up hair as he moves to get up.</p>
<p>His knees were a little shaky, and standing up so quickly gave his head a full, dazed sensation - he probably should have given himself a few more minutes to get his head straight, in retrospect.</p>
<p>Dirk doesn't bother to pull the boxers back on as he starts for the door of John's bedroom. "I'll be back. I'm going to clean up."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John laughs quietly, still a little flustered as he stares into the trashcan. He turns to watch Dirk get up, moving a little closer but not doing anything to reach out or try and stop Dirk as he moves away. Admittedly he feels a little nervous when Dirk heads for the door, but when he explains himself, John feels a little more relaxed. "Alright."</p>
<p>He scoops up the jar of lube and the extra condoms, putting them back in the drawer before stripping the sheets off the bed. There wasn't <em>much</em> mess, but it'd still be uncomfortable to sleep in, so he stuffs them into his hamper and spreads out a clean set in the time Dirk is gone.</p>
<p>He uses his discarded clothes to wipe himself off and pulls on only a pair of clean underwear before climbing back into bed with his phone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once Dirk get to the bathroom, he makes quick work of cleaning himself up. He takes a moment to look himself over - and yeah, he was just as much of a wreck as his hair - feeling over the few marks John had left him. He grabs his shades from the counter as an afterthought as he pads back across the hall to join John in his room.</p>
<p>He nudges the door shut with his foot when he reenters, grabbing his (<em>John's</em>) boxers to tug them back up over his hips before crawling back into bed with John, presumably for the night.</p>
<p>It was still no less intimate in Dirk's mind to do this - he'd grown accustomed to taking late-night ubers home after his hookups. The last person he'd slept with - in both the most and least chaste sense of the word - was his ex-boyfriend. He tried not to think too hard about it, despite the whole predicament feeling ridiculous. It wasn't like they were getting married, for fuck's sake. Normal people slept over, and cuddled, and did all of that shit that people somehow do to each other without it being romantic all the time. Dirk could do that too. No big deal. He settled on top of the covers.</p>
<p>"How's your back?" He knew John had asked him to scratch him up, so the question probably wasn't necessary. But he felt the need to say something, for some reason.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John finds himself gradually getting more and more exhausted with every second. Physically and emotionally. It's a comfortable fatigue though, like how you feel sore after an intense workout. He snuggles back into his bed, not even feeling the scratches until Dirk returns and asks him about them.</p>
<p>And then he <em>really</em> feels them. "Damn... you had to say something. They're probably gonna itch like hell tomorrow, but. Not bad now." He shifts to make more room, not sure if Dirk wanted space or not but not about to look over-affectionate by initiating it himself.</p>
<p>John clicks his phone screen off, leaning over Dirk to place it on the desk before getting comfortable again. He's on his side, hand tucked beneath the pillow as he turns toward Dirk. "You didn't answer my question, though. Do you prefer being on the receiving side of things or is that just how it kinda works out?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk sets his shades on the nightstand, tilting his head to look at John when he spoke, before thinking better of it and just rolling onto his side to mirror John's posture. "You're still on that? Jesus, I thought you forgot."</p>
<p>"A bit of both. I consider myself a switch, but my ex-boyfriend is strictly a top." Dirk pauses for a moment, long enough to chastise himself on terrible wording. The implication in his words wasn't too obvious, though, luckily. He really didn't want to inadvertently stumble his way into the '<em>I still fuck my ex,</em>' conversation with John.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He curls his knees up a little higher, face just barely pulling a grimace when it stretches his back. But he turns it into a sleepy smile and tugs the pillow more firmly against his shoulder. "Mmmh... being 'strictly' anything is pretty boring. But I meant in other things too. Oral and uh. Rimming, since that's what brought the conversation up in the first place."</p>
<p>His hand slides across the bed between them to rub at the bite on Dirk's ribs. "You didn't need to fix up your hair or anything, by the way. Don't get me wrong, you look really good when you're all put together. But you look <em>really</em> good when you're mussed up. So don't feel the need to do it just for my sake." He feels like this is something he might have to say often, because John doesn't want to just flat out say 'you're super hot when you look like a mess, regardless of if I'm the one that did it to you or not'.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk shrugs a shoulder, his eyes on John as he curls up to get comfortable, the cute little smile on his face making him instinctively look away. It gave him those stupid butterflies. "What I said still applies. I enjoy receiving, albeit slightly less than giving, as ass-backward as that sounds. Plenty of reasons for that, but I won't bore you with a dissertation on my sexual interests."</p>
<p>The hand sliding across the bed to touch him feels a lot like an olive branch, so Dirk takes the opportunity to scoot a bit closer. "I don't do it just for you. But thank you. You're not too bad yourself. But your hair is a perpetual state of wild, isn't it?" He teases, a small smile tugging at his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He opens his mouth to say something cheeky like 'I'll keep that in mind', but he hesitates too long, too worried about being pushy or assumptive, and a genuine wide yawn fills the gap instead. "Ugh. Don't get offended if I pass out on you. I've had a big day."</p>
<p>He takes the movement to be a good sign, and worms the hand under his pillow out to slip beneath Dirk's instead. "Yeah, It has two styles. Wild and messy, and wild and combed." He's not that worried about the instance that it wasn't for him - Dirk seemed like the kind of guy to need control over things and that was fine. At least he's seen a couple examples of it. "You gonna stick around for breakfast?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You're making me breakfast, too? Consider me thoroughly romanced." Dirk jokes, lifting his head as John sticks his hand under his pillow. He was awfully close now, John's knees brushing his, so Dirk shifts his legs to get more comfortable, sliding one between John's to tangle them. His arm loops around John's middle, his hand resting lightly on his back.</p>
<p>It was a weird thing, cuddling. Another one of those things that felt oddly intimate, despite being wholly harmless, but in this case, Dirk would most definitely be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it. Genuine affection had a tendency to make him squirm, as a rule. But this? Once Dirk had it in him to shut his stupid brain off, this was nice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The more Dirk seems to go with him, the more comfortable John feels. He blinks at the other man before sighing and closing his eyes. "Don't get your hopes up. I didn't get my dad's rad cooking ability. Eggs and toast are the extent of my skill. I could get bacon too, but I always cook it too much. I like it that way though."</p>
<p>Maybe he could pick up some fruit or something, or whatever normal people consider a balanced breakfast. "I put bell peppers and ham in my eggs, unless you want sunny side up." His voice is trailing off, but he can't just let himself fully fall asleep yet. "Then again, there's always cereal. And you'll probably wake up before me anyway."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Burned bacon <em>and</em> mint chocolate chip ice cream? Yikes, man." Dirk's fingers slide up to thread into John's hair. He could already hear the drowsiness in John's voice threatening to take over. There was a heaviness in his own lids that he was sure would overpower him eventually, but for now, he wasn't nearly as close to sleep as John was.</p>
<p>He focuses on petting John's hair instead. "Breakfast is breakfast, dude. You don't have to bring out the big guns for me. I'll just have some coffee."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That still gets a little laugh out of him, John only momentarily opening his eyes when the fingers slip into his hair. He stares at Dirk silently before closing them again and draping a hand over his ribs - if Dirk wasn't going to be hesitant with his touches, why should John?</p>
<p>"God, that explains a lot about you... You're the kind of asshole to just drink coffee and not bother with food in the morning, huh. You're getting some fucking eggs, Strider, and you're going to like them. Or I'll feel bad. Do you want that... on your conscious?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Are you seriously trying to guilt-trip me into eating eggs with you?" Dirk almost laughs, an amused smile teasing at his lips as he leans into John. His fingers scratch gently at John's scalp as he plays with his hair.</p>
<p>"Coffee is a perfectly acceptable meal substitute, if you drink it black." There was... probably no real logic behind that. But, it was his personal philosophy, and frighteningly genuine. He hadn't eaten breakfast in a decade.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Abso-fucking-lutely. Eat my eggs, Dirk." His eyes are still closed, but a smile still turns up the corners of his mouth. He slots his fingers between what he thinks might be his rib bones, but doesn't move much more.</p>
<p>"Don't ever... say that to me again. No wonder you've got zero body fat. Fuck." John sighs and just breathes for a moment, then rouses one last time to peek at Dirk and slur out a single word. "Goodnight." And then he's gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk breathes a private little chuckle to himself. John wasn't wrong about him being a sack of bones and muscle, so his diss didn't sting. His fingers card idly through John's hair as he speaks, and then he watches him just. Visibly pass the fuck out. It was like he had a switch.</p>
<p>Dirk had never been able to fall asleep in under an hour, minimum, and tonight was no different. He took his phone in hand for a good while, finally responding to The Jake Text, and scrolling through his social media until he eventually passed out nearly two hours later, phone still in hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John hadn't had someone sleep over in a little while, so he's surprised with how comfortable he is when he wakes, still curled toward Dirk. He's also surprised (though he feels a little guilty for expecting it) that Dirk is still there. But it's definitely a pleasant realization. He sits up, stretches, and clumsily clambers over the other man, glancing up at his face every so often to make sure he wasn't waking up, before being able to hop down onto the floor.</p>
<p>John slots his glasses back into place and pulls a tee out of his dresser, content with slumping through his apartment in just undies and a shirt. He considers the bacon and fruit again, but the offchance that Dirk would wake up and find <em>him</em> gone made him feel kind of bad. So eggs and toast and black coffee would have to be enough.</p>
<p>Since he has someone to impress, he actually tries to dice the peppers and onions uniformly, wanting it to look good. He doesn't really want to start the coffee earlier than necessary or the smell might make his partner wake too soon, but the eggs needed a lot of attention since they were practically scrambled. So John tosses the veggies into the skillet (more than double the size and amount he typically makes for himself - maybe he DID get some of his dad's habits for cooking. That man always overdid it when cooking for someone else) and sets it on low heat to sautee for a bit while he sets up the brewer. Toast was obviously going to be last.</p>
<p>He cracks the eggs directly into the heated skillet, and immediately breaks the yolk and mixes it into the veggies. He does this one by one until there's hardly enough room to push them around, and the smells of a pretty nice breakfast spread through the apartment. Fuck, he was hungry. Nachos and a milkshake weren't the best for actual sustenance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Dirk woke up, it smelled a lot like home. Not <em>his</em> home, necessarily - that smell was comprised mostly of cigarette smoke, when he was growing up - but the idea of a home. It was a strange thought to have when he first woke up, but he chalked it up to a combination of his sleep-addled brain and the scent of a good breakfast kickstarting his senses. Since when had Dave learned to cook? And since when was his bed without the comfortable dip in the center where he always nestled? And why was his phone vibrating like crazy right next to his head? Dirk opened his eyes.</p>
<p>Oh, right. John. He'd slept over the night before.</p>
<p>Dirk sits up in bed, checking his phone to find a collection of texts from Dave wondering why he hadn't come home last night, was he dead? Dirk blearily responded in the negative, rubbing at his eye with the back of a knuckle before putting his phone back down beside him. He stretches and pops his back, taking a few minutes to fully wake up before dragging himself out of the warm bed. He considers brushing his teeth, and maybe rummaging for a shirt, or something - but no. Not before coffee. He pads out of the bedroom, idly scratching at his bare stomach as he makes his way for the kitchen.</p>
<p>John was cracking eggs onto a skillet on the stove, and the sight had Dirk's stomach immediately snarling with hunger. Fuck, right, he hadn't exactly eaten shit yesterday except for nachos and a milkshake. Maybe he could go for a real breakfast. Just this once.</p>
<p>"I see you're a man of your word."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sound of a voice so early in the morning was jarring to him - it wasn't necessarily that John forgot Dirk was there, he just didn't expect to hear him so soon. Thankfully he's already tossed the eggshells in the little compost bin on his counter so there's no risk of ruining breakfast when he jumps and almost drops the spatula.</p>
<p>John smiles over his shoulder at him, and shrugs. "Always." He gestures with his elbow. "Coffee's brewing. It's nothing special like I'm sure your hipster ass would drink, but I made it with almost twice as many recommended grounds, so hopefully that makes up for it. Good morning."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"There's a difference between appreciating a good coffee blend and being a hipster about it." Dirk clarifies dryly, stepping over to heft himself up and sit on the counter next to the coffee pot. As cliche as it might sound, he wasn't actually used to doing much - let alone speaking to anyone - before he had his coffee. He wasn't exactly a grouch without the caffeine, though, not any more than usual anyway.</p>
<p>"You can't tell me that the shit you get at Starbucks tastes the same as what you'd get at a local coffee joint. There's more care for the brew itself, rather than the bullshit fillers you put into it." Dirk says this in the least hipstery, non coffee elitist way possible. "Good morning."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John only gives a condescending noise of approval, but the longer Dirk goes on about it, the more he turns to stare at him. "... Dude. You're still kind of being a hipster about it." He waves his spatula at him before flipping the big tufts of egg fluff in the skillet.</p>
<p>"I really shoulda got bacon, damn. I think these might be the best eggs I've ever made. Too bad I can't ride high on this luck and try to not singe the bacon. It's almost done, though." He turns the heat down low, letting the eggs cook on their own as he slots some bread in the toaster.</p>
<p>While he's waiting for everything to finish up, he moves to stand beside Dirk, leaning back against the counter so he can press his shoulder against his leg. John opens his mouth, closes it, then tries again. "So how long did you wanna hang out?" He immediately regrets the phrasing; should have gone for the casual 'doing anything later on?' approach instead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ouch. Dirk was immediately saddled with the guilt of intrusion - he didn't have a solid answer in mind to that question, but he was suddenly getting the impression that sooner was better than later. He was getting far too comfortable here.</p>
<p>"I'll go home after breakfast," Dirk decides. Dave had been asking about him anyway, but instead of telling John that, he substitutes it for: "I've got somewhere to be this afternoon."</p>
<p>He did not - classic misdirection, retreat into himself and put on a front before he could get his unfortunately delicate feelings hurt - but the lie did instinctively make him think of Jake's proposition. Yeah, no. He still wasn't doing that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh." John nods and stares at the floor just in case he does something stupid like look disappointed. "You could stay a bit if you wanted to. I mean technically that toothbrush is yours now. At least long enough for me to do a load of laundry? Putting on dirty clothes is uncomfortable as hell."</p>
<p>Speaking of, he should probably... put Dirk's shoe in the dryer. It was still just hanging out in the sink, mostly damp. He could have stuffed it with a towel or something, but it's too late now. Hopefully Dirk doesn't see it.</p>
<p>The sound of the toaster springing up calls his attention, and John turns off the stovetop with one final stir, then gathers all the toast on a plate to take to his little coffee table in the living room side of the main area. "Apartment's a little too small for a big table, and I usually go out anyway. Sorry."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk knew immediately that the offer was less about ulterior motives more than it was a genuine desire for his company. Mixed signals aside, John likely just felt bad for him. He seemed too nice to kick Dirk to the curb without at least a hollow offer for him to stay beforehand. He only shook his head. "It's no big deal, man. I'll take care of it when I get home."</p>
<p>Dirk watches John carry the plate to the living room, and waves away the apology, because he knew that he and Dave never ate at an actual table unless they were at a restaurant. He goes to pour himself a cup of coffee once the pot was ready, searching for a mug. The first place he looks is the dish rack near the sink, hooking the handle of a mug in his fingers, but ends up spotting something else, too.</p>
<p>Was that why he wanted to do laundry?</p>
<p>"John, did you wash my shoe?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah, sure." He comes back for the eggs, scraping them onto a bigger platter and grabbing two normal-sized eating plates out of his admittedly sparse cabinets. It's when he's going to grab a mug for himself that he notices Dirk's attention in the sink.</p>
<p>Once again, John opens his mouth, then closes it. He smiles, and lifts his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug before turning away with the eggs and plates.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk's eyes left John, and dropped back to his shoe in the sink. He felt like there was something he was missing here. Dirk had sort of had the impression that John had some sort of attachment to him that branched past sexual interest - him going out of his way to do something so stupidly kind like wash his scummy shoe lent itself pretty well to that theory. However, it also didn't seem like he wanted him to stick around this morning. Not completely, anyway.</p>
<p>Dirk comes to the conclusion that John is simply a real nice dude. A good friend. A good fuck. All the signs were leveling out to a more platonic interest, in Dirk's mind. Or at least, that was what he told himself to halt his incessant overthinking. He wonders why his relief is tainted by a twinge of disappointment, but chalks it up to just being an attention whore, vying for the sexual interest of this hot guy.</p>
<p>That's probably what it was.</p>
<p>Dirk follows him to the living room after he pours his coffee, taking a seat at the coffee table. "You didn't have to do that. I barely wanted to touch that thing myself."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah, it was pretty nasty. But I wanted to save it from being burned and then drowned in the same nasty water that doomed it. It doesn't deserve that, Strider." His smile is a little less exuberant than before, and he jogs back to get butter and silverware, pouring his own drink and grabbing salt and pepper, finally finishing their breakfast spread.</p>
<p>John sits against the arm of the couch as he scoops some of the eggs onto his plate, then butters a slice of the toast. "It might not be a very good job though. It got soaked pretty bad, and sometimes some things just... can't be saved!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Thank you. Regardless of whether or not I ever actually decide to put it on again, it was noble of you to willingly dredge your hand into nasty pond scum. Again." Dirk says, taking a sip of his coffee as John makes himself a plate.</p>
<p>He was right, it wasn't as good as the not-hipstery-shit he was used to. But it had enough caffeine and bitterness to do the trick. He forks some eggs onto his plate, and didn't seem to be doing a great job of making it look obligatory as he immediately took a bite - he was genuinely hungry. And, to his surprise, John was a much better cook than he made himself sound. Dirk speaks up once he'd swallowed. "These are good."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That's what got me through it, I think. My body got so used to having it on my arm that it wasn't as traumatizing the second time around." John scoops some of the eggs onto his toast before taking a bite, and he tries to pretend he's not watching Dirk and hoping for a good review.</p>
<p>When it comes, he smiles into his food. "Thanks." He focuses more on his own meal after that, but the silence between them doesn't feel as comfortable as earlier. God, it was the restaurant all over again. Maybe they just weren't allowed to have meals with each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Dirk is aware that the silence is awkward, he doesn't show it. He's too busy munching on a piece of buttered toast once he'd finished his first serving of eggs, and trying not to eat like he's a starved alley cat. But, again - <em>hungry.</em></p>
<p>Dirk instinctively goes to pat his thigh for his phone, but realizes oh yeah, he's still mostly naked, and his phone was in John's bed. He drums his fingers on the couch instead, taking another sip of his coffee. John hadn't said anything for a while. He had a moment of paralyzing fear that he'd been asked a question that he was forgetting to respond to, but no. It was just quiet. That was fine.</p>
<p>"So. Are you doing anything later?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It only seems to get more uncomfortable for John, especially when Dirk makes to look for his phone. What the hell happened?</p>
<p>He latches onto that question like it's a lifeline, hoping it might be a good sign and not just an attempt at smalltalk. "Uh. I don't have any plans for this weekend actually. Probably just going to hang out at home unless Dave or the girls want to do anything. Or, you know." John moves an awkward hand in the air to stop him from saying 'anyone else' and looking like a desperate idiot. Dirk already said he had things he needed to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What?" Dirk asks, because no, he did not know.</p>
<p>Or, maybe he had an inkling of what John meant, but he wasn't about to presume anything. John had made a habit of throwing him for a loop, after all. Would it be that much of a stretch to assume that John wanted to hang out with him again, with how he'd been acting? Dirk takes another sip of his coffee.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John only rolls his eyes at first, scraping half of the remaining eggs and taking another bite of toast to buy some time before embarrassing himself. "I know you said you had plans, but if you wanted to do anything again this weekend, I'd be down for it."</p>
<p>There. That wasn't that weird, was it? He immediately stuffs his face so he doesn't have to keep talking. His own coffee was getting cold, but he forgot the sugar and milk and while he wasn't that averse to drinking it black, John still liked some sweetness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk blinks at him, setting his mostly drained coffee mug on the coffee table. He ignored the toast, in favor of scooping the last of the eggs onto his plate. Dirk pokes at his eggs with the fork, but doesn't bother with another piece of toast - the eggs are actually really good, so he'd rather fill up on that.</p>
<p>"Like sex?" He responds, dumbly, because why would he ever be capable of assuming anything different.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His eyebrows tilt down for just a moment before John swallows his mouthful and takes that first swig of his coffee. Figures. "If you want." His voice is a little more flat than he intends, but John just smiles at him and shrugs. "I'd be down for that."</p>
<p>He tries a few times to suggest other things they could do, but they all seem too pushy; if Dirk's just looking to get laid, John doesn't want to be that bastard trying to make something else out of it.</p>
<p>"Probably not Sunday night. But whenever else is good for me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk took his last sip of coffee as John took his first.</p>
<p>He didn't know why, but he was getting the impression that John didn't mean that. Dirk wasn't sure if he'd been expecting a no, but he also wasn't sure if he <em>wanted</em> a no. It was true that John was good in bed, and Dirk was always interested in sex. But typically his fuck buddies acted a <em>little</em> less like he'd just pissed in their cornflakes while offering a hookup. So, Dirk took the easy way out.</p>
<p>"Sure. I'll text you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Cool." John finishes the last of his toast and eggs, then stands to grab all the dishes. He leaves the coffee mug on the table, not sure if he wanted to finish it or not, and takes everything over to the sink. Which still has a shoe in it. So he leaves them on the counter. With his back to Dirk, he takes the moment to try and figure out why he's being so awkward about this guy he barely knows.</p>
<p>He felt stupid.</p>
<p>"I'm gonna get a shower in a bit, so if you wanted to do anything in the restroom before you head out, just let me know!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk didn't respond at first, just giving a nod that John couldn't see, before realizing his mistake and using his actual words instead. "I'm good. I grabbed my shades last night. I'll grab a ride home, while you're showering."</p>
<p>He stands from the couch, his eyes lingering on John's back for a few seconds too long before he resigned himself, and started back down the hall for John's bedroom. He grabbed his phone and his shades, as well as his pile of dirty clothes. He'd just wear the other set that he had in his bag by the door. He wasn't jumping to put on his soiled pond jeans again.</p>
<p>He tapped at his phone idly as he headed back into the living room, pulling up his ride sharing app. He sort of wished he could just text Dave, but he really didn't want to deal with the fallout of telling him where he was. Yeah, not today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So much for 'not one to get hang-ups'. <em>Dumb</em>, John. "No, come on, I can take you home. It feels like a shitty thing to do to bring you here then make you pay for someone else to give you a lift. It's like. A five-minute drive; I can drop you off before I get in the shower."</p>
<p>But he's not sure how much Dirk heard, because when he turns back around, the other man is coming back from his bedroom. John internally kicks himself for handling this so badly, and walks over to touch Dirk's arm. "Sorry. I'm not really a morning person, so everything's just. Awkward."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk had just dumped his dirty clothes on the floor next to his bag when he felt John's hand on his arm. He looked up to meet his eyes, normally such a bright blue, and noted how dull they looked through the tint of his shades.</p>
<p>"It's ok. You've been fine." Dirk just sort of. Stands there, not really sure what to do with himself now that John had halted his movements with just a touch. He locks his phone, closing the ride share app. "Are you sure? I don't want to put you out."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's not putting me out. Seriously. Just let me get dressed and we can go." A little emboldened now that Dirk hasn't pulled away, John squeezes his arm and kisses his shoulder so he doesn't have to lean up before walking back into his bedroom.</p>
<p>He only has to pull on a pair of sweats and some socks, pocketing his own phone and searching around for his car keys. After a quick run-through of anything he'd need, John heads back out. "Just lemme know when you're good."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk stands up a little straighter when John kisses his shoulder, his brows raising just a bit as he watches him walk away. He ends up standing there for longer than he intends to, but snaps out of it when he disappears into his bedroom.</p>
<p>He leans to fish through his bag for his second outfit, and starts to pull on his dark jeans before realizing he was still wearing John's boxers. He considers for a moment before he just slips them off in favor of going commando, dropping them on the floor next to his other dirty clothes. He pulls on his (still cool) button up, and packs his other clothes into his messenger bag while grabbing his wallet and keys, sans John's boxers. He shoulders the bag and goes to put on his shoes, before he remembers he's going to have to perform his walk of shame with a wet foot.</p>
<p>Dirk is at the sink with one shoe on and John's boxers in his hand when John is making his way back out into the living room. "One sec."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's a conflicting image - Dirk in his nice clothes holding his underwear and figuring out what to do with the wet shoe, and John can't help but laugh just a little. "Shit... Sorry. I forgot to stuff some towels in it to help dry it faster."</p>
<p>He's not sure why he's asked to wait, so John plops his ass back on the couch and takes another heavy pull of his now lukewarm coffee. It's fucking terrible. He holds his hand out for the underwear, though, and only realizes that means Dirk isn't wearing any under his fancy pants.</p>
<p>"I'll take those for you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk had intended on just taking the boxers to John's hamper, since it would be awfully awkward to just shove worn underwear into John's hands, but he complied anyway and lets John take them.</p>
<p>Then, he sort of just. Holds the shoe for a second or two, before heaving a sigh. No way out of this one. He shifts his weight to one leg, pulling the wet - but admittedly much cleaner, thanks John - shoe onto his foot without any ceremony. It was still terrible when he put his weight onto the damp sole, but remarkably better now that it wasn't covered in gunk. He eventually speaks up during his lamenting, now that he was actually ready to go.</p>
<p>"The more I have to stand in a transportable puddle, the more I'm determined to never go anywhere with a water feature again."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As much as he likes Dirk, he can't resist the glee that comes over him while watching him pull on his soaked shoe. "Sucks, man. And that's a shame." John smiles at him before jogging to stuff the borrowed boxers in the hamper. He's jingling his keys by the time he comes back out.</p>
<p>"Got everything, then? I better get you home before you start growing a fungus."He stands at his door, holding it open and waiting.</p>
<p>"Transportable <em>and</em> transferrable. You'll be leaving them everywhere."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Fuck off, man. The life I'm leading is a difficult one. I wouldn't expect you to understand, with your dry ass shoes." Dirk pats his pockets even though he knows his phone, keys, and wallet are there, and starts for the door.</p>
<p>He brushes past John, the sound of his walk accented by a terrible suction noise from his shoe as he steps into the hall, and starts towards the way he remembered the parking garage was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John laughs again, watches him slip by and resists doing something touchy, before closing the door and locking it behind him. He winces at the first few squelchy steps, and speeds his pace so he can at least spare Dirk from having to do it much longer. Halfway down the hall however, he stops and spins around.</p>
<p>"You know, I think I did offer to carry you around the apartment last night. That offer still stands so you don't have to feel... <em>that</em> until we get to the car."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stops when John does, a complaint ready and prepped on the edge of his tongue if he'd forgotten something, and had to walk back to the apartment. However, he's caught off guard by John's offer, his brows quirking up. For a second, he just stares at him.</p>
<p>But then, his mouth turns up just slightly at the corners. "You drive a hard bargain, Egbert." Dirk says, but very purposefully doesn't refuse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He waits, almost impatiently, for Dirk's answer, and after a couple moments he considers taking back his offer, saying something smug like 'missed your chance, dude', but then that little upturn of Dirk's lips makes him smile. "Cool."</p>
<p>He turns his back to the other man, doesn't even bother squatting, bending his arms out. "Piggyback or bridal? Just don't sit on my shoulders. I don't want your wet shoe bumping into my chest."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Your shoulders? Come on, man, I know you're short, but even with me on your shoulders you'll knock my ass out cold on the doorframe when we walk out." Dirk doesn't answer directly, just sidling up behind John and winding his arms around his shoulders.</p>
<p>He hops up for John to catch his thighs, and momentarily feels sort of ridiculous riding on his back with their height difference - particularly because of his long, dumbass legs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He laughs again, and the laugh turns into a little grunt as he hooks his arms around Dirk's thighs. "It'd be funny as hell, though." After bouncing upward once to resettle the man on his back and get a better grip, John continues down the hallway.</p>
<p>"It's up to you to get the doors." A fun little swap from last night.</p>
<p>One of his neighbors at the end of the hall slips out, clearly heading to work, and John gives them an awkward little wave from down by his hip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"To knock me out? Jesus John, at least wait for the second date." Dirk quips, his voice jolting in the middle as John bounces him to shift his grip on his thighs. Maybe he was depraved, but the strong grip immediately had his mind sinking to the gutter, remembering the bruises he would no doubt have on his thighs after last night.</p>
<p>Dirk glances over when he hears a door at the end of the hall open, spotting one of John's neighbors being a productive member of society instead of carrying another man on their back. Lame, but wonderful timing. "How am I supposed to reach? Just pick up the pace and follow them out. Come on." Dirk nudges his heels onto John's thighs, as if he was steering a horse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh my <em>god</em>, man, you'll be able to reach just fine!" But the thought of chasing down the neighbor that gave them a strange look was tantalizing, and John tilts his body forward, breaking into a jog. He tries his best not to laugh, not wanting to alert the other person and risk missing their chance.</p>
<p>"Do you want me to neigh and everything, you kinky bastard?" He says it quietly, but it still echoes down the hall. He can feel his face heating up and is glad he rarely ever sees this person.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, daddy, neigh for me." Dirk deadpans, not bothering to stifle his volume, because he could see the blush blooming on John's face, and this was a perfect opportunity for some ownage.</p>
<p>Dirk holds tighter to John to brace himself as he starts to jog, really not liking the thought of getting potentially dropped on his ass, due to the jogging, or his cutesy attempt to embarrass John in front of this random stranger that he could potentially have to look in the eye every day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Holy shit, <em>don't</em>-" John's voice is a hoarse whisper, but he knows it's too late; his neighbor just barely starts to glance back before seemingly having a change of heart and picking up the pace. They're almost at the door, and John's still a few paces back. "Man, this is <em>your</em> fault, you weirdo!" But John laughs and gives his best approximation of a whinny. He squeezes Dirk's thighs before sprinting after his neighbor.</p>
<p>He's barely able to stop from ramming into their back, and John mutters a quiet amused apology as he wedges his foot against the doorframe in case they tried to slam it on them. He only sees an uncomfortable smile and a wave before his neighbor scurries through the parking lot and away from them. "Can't believe you, dude. This is what I get for carrying you, huh?"</p>
<p>He makes sure his gait is bouncier than normal as he heads toward his own car, then pauses at the passenger side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John whinnies, and hefts him up to run after his poor neighbor like they were some twisted duo in a terrible horror movie, and the scene was so fucking ridiculous that Dirk was <em>laughing,</em> completely real and unfiltered.</p>
<p>"Holy fuck, I didn't think you would actually do it, you weird bastard." Dirk manages, huffing for breath through giggles and struggling to keep his grip as he was jostled so thoroughly from John's bouncing. "You scared the shit out of them."</p>
<p>Dirk was still trying to get his laughter under control as he hopped down from John's back, barely even noticing the squelch of his shoe this time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's pretty fucking humiliated, but the sound of laughter from behind him was enough to make up for it. "I'm pretty sure <em>'daddy, neigh for me'</em> was what scared them, you ass." John takes a moment to catch his breath, turning to hold Dirk's shoulder after he hops down, just in case. The benefit of touching him might have also played a part.</p>
<p>He unlocks Dirk's side first before jogging over to the driver's door and climbing inside. He immediately turns the ignition just to get the AC running to blast cold air on his still-warm face, then buckles in and turns to make sure Dirk is as well. "Thanks for that. I'm pretty sure any chance at a normal apartment buddy relationship was absolutely <em>demolished</em>."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em>I</em> didn't make the choice to sprint after them and shove my way through the door. That was all you, bro." Dirk was chuckling as he got into John's car, pulling on his seatbelt. He managed to stop laughing, but there was still a grin on his face that was hard to get off.</p>
<p>"Don't sell yourself short, man. Maybe they have a pony play kink. You can bond over bits and riding crops."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Judging from the way the ran for their car, I'm pretty sure that's not the case." John sighs and shakes his head as though he's genuinely disappointed, then sputters with quiet laughter before driving his car out of the lot.</p>
<p>"That was fun. Like. All of it." He kind of wishes he waited til they were closer to Dirk and Dave's place before starting in on this, but it just feels nice to talk to him even when he thinks he might be blowing it. John keeps his eyes on the road.</p>
<p>"I had a great time, Dirk. Thanks for agreeing to it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk glances over to him briefly, but doesn't manage to meet his eyes when they're on the road. John wasn't looking at him, and he'd be grateful for that if he was aware of the way the smile softened on his face.</p>
<p>"Yeah, dude. I'm glad to have notched a couple of misdemeanors on your belt," Dirk teases. "...It was a good night. I'm, uh. Glad I did. Agree to it, that is. You're a lot of fun, John."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John smirks out the windshield. "Yeah. <em>Thanks</em> for that, too." He doesn't hide his glee when he hears the rest of what Dirk has to say, only pausing to glance at him for a couple seconds when they reach a stop sign.</p>
<p>"Yeah... It was a really great night, even with the rough start. Though uh. I'm still sorry about how it actually got going." He doesn't say that he's still kind of glad it happened, because that felt pretty shitty.</p>
<p>John turns onto the road he lives on and starts scanning for a spot to park.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk's eyes had left John in favor of looking out the window when he turned to glance at him, but the little smile was still on his lips, albeit fading. "That's alright. It wasn't just on you," He admits. "I wasn't helping. I was more focused on the dick than the journey to it, to put it simply."</p>
<p>He could see his apartment building when John turns, and starts formulating an excuse on the off chance that Dave happens to see him getting out of John's car. It was important to be prepared - he doubted John wanted Dave know about all of this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, I meant... before that. I know you've already told me a few times that you aren't holding it against me, but." John shrugs and slots his car into a space across the street from his apartment.</p>
<p>He puts it in park but leaves the engine running as he turns in his seat to really look at Dirk. "I'll... see you later?" Intentionally phrasing it as a question, John rests his hand on the center console.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm not." Dirk says simply, turning his head to look at him once the car slowed to a stop. It was true that he wasn't. It was objectively a shitty way to meet someone, of course. But Dirk didn't think he would have agreed to a date otherwise. And John wasn't a creep like he'd initially made himself out to be. Dirk didn't think he'd be too opposed to seeing him again to hook up, despite his vague <em>Text you later</em> response earlier.</p>
<p>Dirk rests his hand on top of John's, curling his fingers around his palm long enough to lean across the center console and press his lips briefly to his. "Yeah. I'll see you later."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John smiles into the kiss, tilting his head but not doing anything to try and deepen it. He squeezes Dirk's hand before letting go and situating himself back into a driving position. "Great."</p>
<p>He leans forward and stares out his window up to where he assumes their apartment is from the outside, wondering if Dave might be staring down at them. Boy. That was something John could figure out later. One date and a hesitant offer of another wasn't something he'd have to tell his best bud about, so the chance of them being seen was a little uncomfortable.</p>
<p>He turns back so he can watch Dirk climb out. "Well, uh. Bye."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk pulls back from the kiss as he slips his hand from John's, situating his bag on his shoulder. He hops out of the car, glancing back in at John at the goodbye. He gives another of his trademark half smiles, and offers a wordless peace sign in response before he shuts the door.</p>
<p>He walks backwards for a few steps before he's turning away to cross the street, not looking back as he goes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John scoffs and smirks at the hand gesture, holding his smile until Dirk isn't looking at him anymore. He puts the car in drive, pulling out of the space and getting ready to head home. But the street was empty, so John quickly rolls down his window and shouts, "You have to pick the next one!" before peeling out (in a responsible driver kind of way).</p>
<p>He borderline speeds until he finally gets back home, then dives into the shower, not letting himself feel giddy or eager about the past or about something that might not even happen in the future.</p>
<p>He does the dishes, cleans up, looks around his apartment on the off chance Dirk managed to forget something, then slips his phone in his pocket while he takes the laundry downstairs. Anything to distract him from being a huge sappy loser.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk is startled when John shouts, but not for the obvious reason of the spontaneity or volume. Instead, it was the implication of what he'd said. Fuck, did he mean the next <em>date?</em> That was most definitely <em>not</em> what Dirk meant when he said he would see him again. The surprise had Dirk stopped on the sidewalk, staring at John's car as he pulled away and was slowly consumed by the sinking feeling in his stomach.</p>
<p>Dirk hurries upstairs after that, immediately kicking off his shoes and dumping his dirty clothes into the washing machine in the hall closet as he makes a beeline for his room. He notes the absence of Dave - luckily he wasn't even home <em>to</em> witness the whole John situation even if he wanted to. Small victories. Dirk shuts and locks his door behind him, and ends up staring at his terrible Rainbow Dash poster on the opposite wall for quite a while.</p>
<p>He feels as if he's just gotten himself into something a lot bigger than a second date.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A hookup.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay I THINK the chapters should be a little shorter from this point on! We're... about halfway through the log now, and I'm considering spacing out the chapters a little bit more but I'd no doubt get anxious for not being caught up. Plus, I'd be nicer to have all our stuff in one convenient place to search through, since we're on our... fourth chat connection because once the log gets too long it takes a long time to load haha.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John's feelings of 'maybe this is okay' fade slowly with time, when Dirk doesn't text that weekend. But he doesn't want to pressure him or look needy, so he doesn't make the first attempt at contact. He also manages to not be an obsessive weirdo who checks their phone every ten minutes, which he's very proud of.</p><p>Though, as the week goes by and still with nothing from Dirk's end (he has a momentary panic attack when he can't find their message history until he remembers he cleared it at the restaurant) John gets more and more nervous. It's becoming a little less 'did I mess up' and a little more 'hey is he okay actually?' as the days go on, but John reassures himself that they never had a reason to interact before the party so it's not that strange that they never see one another now.</p><p>But he doesn't want to ask Dave if he's alright because one - that'd be weird of him, and two - it's kind of none of his business anyway. John's not the only one interested in Dirk, and he has no reason to be someone who's owed status updates. Dirk has his brother and his friends to make sure he's doing okay.</p><p>Still, after the two week mark has rolled by with no contact, his anxiety compels him to pull up Dirk's number in his phone. He agonizes over what to say for almost an hour, deleting and rewriting and reading and reconsidering before he finally settles on something simple that wasn't an invitation to spend time together.</p><p>'hey! did you end up giving your shoe that viking burial after all?'</p><p> </p><p>Dirk had meant to text John, he really had.</p><p>After he'd gotten over the shock that came along with the vague proposition of a second date, he'd taken out his phone, determined to set things right. <em>No more dates. If you want to hook up again, though, you have my number.</em> Despite the response feeling entirely too harsh, Dirk genuinely couldn't think of a better way to put it. Blunt, simple, and straight to the point. No funny business, and no misunderstandings. And if John didn't like it, well. He had no obligation to see him again. His thumb hovered the send button.</p><p>But he didn't send it.</p><p>The text sat as a draft in his messaging application for the rest of the weekend. And then the rest of the week. Dirk tried to parse out exactly why he was stalling, but every time he came up short. It was exactly what he wanted, wasn't it? So why did he feel so sick at the thought of setting the boundary?</p><p>One night in particular, Dirk had finally deleted the draft to start again. <em>Hey. I'm free tonight, if you are. Can I drop by?</em> It was a much more comfortable solution, to ignore the looming threat of a date in favor of cutting straight to the chase. It wasn't as if John would be surprised that all Dirk wanted was sex. He'd made it blatantly clear from the beginning that he wasn't in it for much more. Or at least, he <em>thought</em> he did. But then John was rolling down his car window, when he dropped him off, all '<em>You have to pick the next one!</em>' in that remarkably fucking oblivious and endlessly optimistic voice of his, and tore Dirk up inside. He still didn't send the message.</p><p>Was he being the asshole here by denying John a chance? Why was he even <em>thinking</em> of giving John a chance in the first place? <em>Dirk didn't date.</em> He couldn't. It was too... too complicated, to have anything more than an arranged friend with benefits masquerading as a boyfriend. Dirk tried not to think too hard about his hang ups. And by the grace of any and every ironic god to exist, he was rescued from this spiral with a text from his former beau.</p><p>Jake was asking to meet up at his place. It was the exact distraction that Dirk needed, almost a week and a half to the hour after John had dropped him off at his apartment.</p><p>Jake had always been... different, unfortunately. Their relationship was one like Dirk had never had before, if only because it was more than just the sex, at first. It was dates, and movie nights, and hanging out just for the enjoyment of each other's company. Jake did enjoy him, Dirk thought. But he quickly found out it was much more of a platonic enjoyment. It didn't last. They broke off after two months because of a potent combination of Dirk's clinginess and Jake's avoidance, and mutually decided that an arrangement with a few less <em>feelings</em> involved was a lot more comfortable for them both. Hence, their current arrangement. Dirk was fine with it, really. He was over Jake. He'd never had much of a reason to think about it until Jake sat up from between his legs tonight and told him that he thought they should stop seeing each other.</p><p>Dirk has the distinct feeling that he's been broken up with, by someone he wasn't even dating anymore.</p><p>The next few days were worse. Dave caught him, quote, '<em>moping</em>' around the apartment on several occasions, and it lead to Dirk sticking to his room more often, even when he wasn't working on a commission or a project.</p><p>It was during one of his manic fits of productivity at his robotics workbench that his phone pinged with a notification. He glanced briefly at the screen, and quickly did a double take. He ignored the way his heart lurched in his chest at the sight of <em>"John the hunk &lt;3"</em>'s contact name popping up on the screen. Dirk wipes his oily hands on a rag before he grabs it, and types a response before he can even give it a second thought.</p><p>'Nah. It was a tough decision for the family, but we decided a proper graveside service was the best option for us.'</p><p> </p><p>The response comes much quicker than he anticipated; after the silence, he planned on maybe getting something a few days later, and John's already putting his phone back in his pocket immediately after hitting send. Which is how he almost drops the phone in his fumbling attempt to rip it back out of his pocket just a few moments later.</p><p>His lips quirk in a little smile, but he still feels like maybe it was an intrusive message somehow. John chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, uncomfortable even though <em>he</em> was the one who started it.</p><p>'damn, send my regards. it was a good shoe.'</p><p>'kinda wish i didn't bother cleaning it now, though. but i guess that makes me a mortician or something, and that's. weird, but cool i guess!'</p><p> </p><p>"Don't worry. You did an excellent job preparing it for open casket. Don't tell my brother, but I might have gone as far as to swap the body before the burial. It's hidden in my closet." Dirk taps his text out with quick fingers, responding to John's message just as fast as he had the first.</p><p>He stares at the screen, his project left abandoned on the workbench for now. It was strange that John was actually texting him in the first place. Dirk had pretty much come to terms with the fact that he wouldn't be hearing from him again, after leaving him high and dry that one weekend. This was a surprise. But, he didn't think too much of it. John was nice. <em>Optimistic,</em> he reminded himself. Of course he would reach back out, even after Dirk had indirectly stood him up.</p><p>What he did think too much about was why he was so quick to respond. He set down his phone face down, purposefully getting back to work.</p><p> </p><p>'that's pretty fucked up, dude. also, bold of you to assume my loyalty to you is anything close to my loyalty to dave. i'm totally telling him.' That'd be a funny conversation. And by 'funny' he means 'boring and dumb'.</p><p>John waits for the reply for a moment, lounging on his couch and staring at the screen. Up until he realizes how pathetic it was to be hanging onto every line of text coming in, and rolling off the couch to go make something to eat.</p><p>He still felt a little prickly about the entire situation, but if Dirk was satisfied with the one fuck, he'd still at least like to be casual friends with him.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk hears the ping of his phone, and manages to ignore it as he shoves his hand into the chassis of his robot. He allows the time to pass, and eventually his heartbeat slows. He gets lost in his project again, and it's only when his phone pings again around an hour later that he picks it up.</p><p>Dave, asking if he wants take out from their usual Japanese place. Dirk declines with his typical <em>We have food at home</em>, excuse, and is met with several thumbs down emojis in response. It's then that Dirk finds it appropriate to respond to John, standing from his desk and padding across the room to his door.</p><p>'And here I thought I could trust you with my most damning secret. You're a real piece of work, Egbert.'</p><p> </p><p>When the message finally comes, John's made it through a sandwich and half a Family Size bag of chips while watching some show he has no real fondness for on his television. He grunts, slaps the crumbs and grease off his fingers and onto his top, then pulls the message up.</p><p>'sorry man, but you can't just let me stick it in and then believe that overrides years of friendship.'</p><p>He almost mentions the date as well, but he worries that might come across as passive aggressive somehow, so he leaves it out.</p><p>'you doing something fun?'</p><p> </p><p>'Never said I did. My ass has nothing on your inexplicably sturdy bromance.' Dirk taps out his message as he starts up the electric kettle on the counter, grabbing a packet of cheap (but authentically Japanese, of course) instant ramen from the cabinet, alongside a wide rimmed bowl. He fishes for some chopsticks after the dry noodles are in the bowl on the counter.</p><p>'Not particularly. Just getting some work done.'</p><p> </p><p>'hell yeah.'</p><p>John doesn't say anything else for a while, not really sure where he wants this conversation to go. It's definitely starting to feel a little forced on his end, and he's worried he might say something stupid. So he ties up the bag of chips, washes his hands, and settles on looking for something actually substantial to eat before trying again.</p><p>'nice. keeping busy then? i don't actually know what you do.'</p><p> </p><p>John takes long enough to respond that he's got his chopsticks and ramen ready, and already starting back to his room when he hears the next ping. He nudges aside some spare parts as he sits at his desk to eat, but types his response on the phone that never actually left his hand.</p><p>'I build robots. Mostly software, but occasionally hardware, when I have the resources.'</p><p> </p><p>'oh damn! that's really cool!' He's surprised Dave never mentioned this - sounded like something he'd want to brag about. But maybe he just respected his brother's privacy. 'so you're like some kinda genius then, huh? but you still fall into slimy water features. shame.'</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels the tiniest surge of pride at John's reaction, despite the fact that he tries to kill it with that playful jab.</p><p>'I didn't fall. I stepped, with an uncharacteristic lack of grace. It was for the greater good, despite the unfortunate pond scum and the heartwarming funeral for my shoe.'</p><p> </p><p>'right, right. of course. so you CHOSE to destroy your shoe. i don't think that makes it any better, dirk.'</p><p>Suddenly hit with a craving, John sets up his kitchen to make some burgers. Unfortunately, being wrist deep in ground beef isn't as easily wiped away as some potato chip grease.</p><p>'hey, i'm gonna start cooking here in a minute and i won't be able to text. so unless you wanna call, i'll be back later.'</p><p> </p><p>Dirk frowns at his phone for a split second, but it fades rather quickly to a flat line of unaffected resignation. He rolls his chopsticks together between two fingers as he responds simply. 'No big. Talk to you later.'</p><p>He stared at the screen for several seconds too long after that. He finds himself wondering, even after he's finished his ramen and gone back to work, why their first conversation in two weeks was a lot less painful to endure than he'd imagined it being. The date wasn't brought up, but the sex was, and John didn't press. Maybe he'd successfully passed his message along through sheer absence alone. But what did this mean for them? Was John content with leaving things as they were, and just being his friend?</p><p>Dirk almost sends him another message - a gauche <em>What are we</em> text would be horrendously appropriate - but decides to keep to himself instead. Despite the anxiety it made him feel, he gets the impression that it's better for his mental stability if he didn't get the answer to that question. He puts down his phone.</p><p> </p><p>He's glad for the distraction - that conversation felt like it wasn't going anywhere, and John was just a few messages away from asking Dirk flat out why he didn't try to talk to him. It was so dumb getting this worked up over someone when he <em>already knew</em> what Dirk wanted in the first place.</p><p>He just thought that they bounced off each other really well. But it was pretty obvious that Dirk wasn't really thinking that much about it. And that was fine!</p><p>John makes far too many hamburger patties for him to eat alone, and since he'd mixed in all the other ingredients he can't just use it for something else. Well. Meatloaf was an option, but he decides instead to just wrap and freeze them individually before frying up a couple to eat right away. When he's finished and cleaned up, a couple hours later, he once again finds himself with his phone in his hands.</p><p>He had no idea what to say to keep a conversation going, because the previous attempts landed flat. Once again he has the urge to ask if Dirk purposefully avoided him for the fortnight, but he decides he has <em>some</em> dignity.</p><p>'what kinds of robots do you make?'</p><p> </p><p>Dave is in the living room when Dirk slinks out to put his ramen bowl in the sink, and somehow weasels Dirk into watching some made for TV History Channel conspiracy documentary. It's remarkably far-fetched and there are plenty of gaping holes in the logic. It's the perfect show to rip apart with his brother.</p><p>Once the show was over and Dirk had stolen more than a few of Dave's tempura shrimp, they part for their separate rooms. Then, John texts him as if the few hours hadn't passed. Dirk glances from his phone, to the workbench, and back. He decides to take a shower.</p><p>But not after sending a response to John.</p><p>'Depends. My concentration is artificial intelligence, when it comes to software. Anything from single minded chatbots to well ranged personal assistants. Hardware is predictably less riveting, considering my workshop is limited to an apartment bedroom. I've been working on a rabbit.'</p><p> </p><p>'you know, after all that super-smart leadup, i absolutely would not have guessed you'd end on that note. a rabbit, huh? any specific reason?'</p><p>John doesn't wait very long before finally biting the bullet and trying again. But at least he doesn't ask about Dirk's silence, or say anything awkward or pressuring.</p><p>'did you want to do something again sometime? whatever you're into, you don't have to indulge my stupid ass this time. if you just want to hook up, that's cool.'</p><p> </p><p>Dirk had started to type out his explanation for the rabbit thing - the idea for a spritely robot assistant being one that his friend Jane had given to him entirely without sincerity - but was stopped in his tracks by John's next text.</p><p>Right. They were going to talk about the issue they'd been so blatantly dancing around this whole time. And John was offering him an out. He'd read Dirk loud and clear, apparently. Dirk has enough sense to feel guilty for not just communicating this shit to John like a normal person, but he'd never claimed to be normal.</p><p>Dirk types out the '<em>No.</em>' on instinct alone, pushing John away just for the sake isolation until he stopped feeling so stupidly sorry for himself. But he doesn't send it. He's developed quite a habit of that, lately - but in this case, it was because he knew without a shadow of a doubt it wasn't what he wanted.</p><p>He liked John, objectively. John made him feel like he could actually be his friend, without it being forced for the sake of dick. Or faked, in one particular case, for the sake of... his feelings, he guessed. But now really wasn't the fucking time to think about that.</p><p>Despite having a genuine interest in John and his dick, a small part of Dirk's brain reminded him that fucking a guy to make him feel better had exploded in his face before. The bigger part of his brain reminded him how excellent sex was as an instant dopamine spike. Fuck it. John said they didn't have to go on a date. What was the worst that could happen?</p><p>Deep down, he knew from the start he wasn't going to turn John down anyway.</p><p>'I'm down to hook up. When are you free?'</p><p> </p><p>There's no answer for a long time, and John bares his teeth in an uncomfortable grimace before trying to settle back on some mind-numbing television to hopefully forget he ever sent the text. It, obviously, doesn't work. But he can at least pretend it's not rattling around in his brain so he's not constantly kicking himself for the dumb offer.</p><p>Eventually he decides to go to bed early, and after a few moments of consideration (he kind of wanted to be lazy, but it was hot out today) he takes a cool shower. John doesn't hear the message come through, and ends up not seeing it until later, when he's spread out on the bed.</p><p>Well shit, how long had he been waiting for a reply?</p><p>'i'm typically good in the afternoons or weekends, and i didn't have any extra plans this week. so whenever's good for you."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't immediately regret the text he sends, but the longer he waits for a response, the more the anxiety starts to bloom. He supposed he'd kept John waiting first, so maybe this was just vindictive justice, either through the intentions of John or the universe itself. The most pressing question of the hour was: <em>Was that the wrong answer?</em></p><p>Dirk's leg bounced relentlessly under his workbench as he soldered a small motherboard while he waited - he'd managed to distract his mind, but his body didn't get the memo, apparently.</p><p>Finally, Dirk hears the telltale ping, and definitely does not nearly burn the tips of his fingers off trying to put his iron down and grab his phone.</p><p>'<em>Tomorrow afternoon?</em>' He types, but it seems too desperate for his tastes, and he backspaces it.</p><p>'This Friday night?'</p><p> </p><p>'friday's cool!'</p><p>He resists the temptation to ask if there's a specific place he has in mind, because John is pretty sure Dirk would tell him if he wanted to go somewhere. He makes a mental note to clean his house up a bit before the end of the week.</p><p>'just give me a heads up before you come over. goodnight.'</p><p> </p><p>It feels like an anvil was lifted off Dirk's chest at the quick response, and he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Dirk taps out his response, and returns to his project with much steadier hands and no bouncing knees.</p><p>'Will do. Goodnight, John.'</p><p> </p><p>The week goes by far too slowly, and by Friday morning, John's kind of a wreck and he doesn't even know why. He's never been so weird about a sex-only relationship before, but at the same time, he's never actually wanted to date the person he was in a sex-only relationship with.</p><p>He tears through his house again immediately after work, but not as thoroughly as their first (and last?) date. It's still kind of early, but he doesn't know when Dirk is going to show up. Nine sounds like the safest bet, since it was his instinct to ask for the first time. So when eight rolls around he starts working on an early dinner, with plans to shower afterward.</p><p>He keeps his eye on his phone the entire time, not wanting to be nosy or sound impatient so not about to send a new message unless Dirk doesn't show.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk keeps himself too busy with work to think about Friday. The days pass, and most of his nights are sleepless - why would he sleep when he could just use the liminal space as a timeframe to get more work done? The only exception is Thursday night, when he downs some melatonin to pass out. It's not exactly flattering to fall asleep in the middle of sex.</p><p>Dirk goes through his typical two hour routine Friday evening of showering and taming his hair, and gets dressed in a simple hoodie and dark jeans. He packs up one of his recent commissions into a box to drop off at the post office before he goes to meet John. He doesn't dwell on the feeling that he's treating their hook up like an errand. A transaction. Because it would make him think about the realities of the emotionally unavailable asshole he actually, inarguably is. And he couldn't have that. He did enough of that already, in his own time.</p><p>Dirk texts John from the parking lot of the post office.</p><p>'Hey. I'll be over in ten?'</p><p> </p><p>The message comes while he's still finishing up his meal, and John almost throws his plate in surprise. He sits up a little too suddenly, has a brief moment where he's afraid he might start choking, then runs to unlock his front door after putting the plate of leftovers in his fridge.</p><p>"<em>Shit</em>."</p><p>As he's gathering a clean outfit and a towel, he texts back one-handed.</p><p>'cool! door's unlocked, you can just come in. i'll be in the shower but i won't take long!'</p><p>John groans as he sets the phone on the bathroom sink, not waiting for the water to heat up all the way before jumping in. He's taken ten minute showers before - he could do this.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't respond but waits for John's text back before he starts to drive. Ten minutes probably wasn't enough forewarning, in retrospect. But Dirk had never been the best at following proper social etiquette anyway.</p><p>He drives to John's place in just under ten minutes, skipping through radio stations for a good chunk of that time until he's finding a space in the parking garage. He spots John's car as he hops down, and briefly remembers the piggyback (horseyback?) stunt they'd pulled just a few feet away. He wonders how out of their way John's neighbor has put themselves just to avoid running into him again. The thought makes Dirk smile, as he steps into the hallway and starts for John's apartment on the right.</p><p>He considers knocking, but finds the gesture pointless considering John already invited him in via text. He pushes open the door and steps inside, locking the door behind him. It was strange to walk in without John, but he was definitely here. Something smelled good, as he stepped inside and settled onto John's couch. He must have cooked dinner pretty recently, and it made the rational adult part of Dirk's brain remind him to grocery shop, instead of eating ramen as his main source of sustenance. He pulled out his phone to scroll through as he waited for John.</p><p> </p><p>The shower takes a little over fifteen minutes, partly due to his initial panic of the cold water hitting his skin, and mostly because he wanted to be thorough but kept getting caught up on the potentially most efficient order to do things instead of actually doing them.</p><p>He shuts off the water and vigorously dries off before brushing his teeth and getting dressed. There aren't any more messages on his phone, so he wonders if maybe Dirk mistimed it. Still, he pushes out of the restroom almost hesitantly, flushing when he spies the blonde hair poking over the back of his couch. Damn.</p><p>"Hey! Sorry if you were waiting long. Bad time management."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk tips his head back, lolling it to the side to look at John properly at the sound of his voice. He immediately pockets his phone, because he suddenly had much more interesting things to do than scroll through Reddit.</p><p>"You're a terrible host, John. I'll be sure to tell my superiors about this horrific act of inhospitality."</p><p>He gets up to his feet, but quickly realizes he doesn't know exactly why - he didn't want to take shit immediately to John's bedroom. He might have lacked some tact, but he wasn't that much of a douchebag.</p><p>"You... wanna watch a movie or something?" He gestures vaguely to the TV.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh god, I'm gonna get written up <em>again</em>." John smiles, ruining his faux desperation. When Dirk stands, he takes a step back, because he kind of thought that <em>was</em> what he wanted - to take it straight to his room. So the offer to watch a movie was startling, and John visibly balks. He'd <em>love</em> to watch a movie, but he also kind of considered that a date, which Dirk didn't want.</p><p>He's not shrewd enough to think that maybe this was some sort of test, but it still throws him for a loop. Maybe Dirk just didn't think it was a dating thing. Maybe he just wanted to have something in the background while they fucked on the couch.</p><p>... <em>Fuck</em>, he wishes he could just say things without worrying about consequences or misunderstandings. "I... sure. If you want."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk only raises his brows when John's face seems slapped with some mixture of surprise and confusion. He supposes it's fair enough, for John to be caught off guard that Dirk didn't immediately drop to his knees once he entered the door. But he didn't make a habit of jumping in dick first. Not without some preemptive foreplay via sexting, or something. It was rude.</p><p>Dirk only offered a shrug of his shoulders, awkwardly averting his shaded eyes.</p><p>"We can cut to the chase, if that's what you're after."</p><p> </p><p>John actually scoffs and rolls his eyes, staring off to the side for a moment with a mildly frustrated expression. "The whole point is we're doing what <em>you</em> want, man." But he takes a breath and reins it in, licking his lips.</p><p>"Seriously, you don't have to like. Hold my hand through this. If you don't want to date then there's no reason to... pretend. I'm good with it."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's expression morphs to one of surprise, before flattening back to that of his typical, unaffected mask. Admittedly, there was the slightest furrow between his brows, but the was the only sign to communicate his concern.</p><p>"I wasn't trying to pretend anything."</p><p>It's all he says in response. He wouldn't lie to John by doubling back and flip-flopping his reason for being here - he wanted sex first and foremost. But it didn't seem like John wanted that, did he?</p><p> </p><p>And now he feels awkward. After all the insistence that he could do this without being <em>awkward</em>. John scowls at the floor for a moment, trying to sort out just what was happening. Was he being rude? It kind of felt like it, even though he was specifically trying to be accommodating.</p><p>After another few seconds of being a pouty baby, John sighs and rolls his eyes again, this time at himself. He walks around the couch to curl his fingers around Dirk's wrist, lifting onto his toes to kiss his jaw. "Come on. We're doing what <em>you</em> want tonight."</p><p> </p><p>Something in Dirk seems to relax, and he offers the smallest upturn of his lips in response to John when he feels the kiss to his jaw. He rests his hand on John's hip momentarily, giving a light squeeze. He still didn't feel entirely grounded. But, whatever anger John had just held towards him had seemed to pass.</p><p>It was hesitant when he dipped down to press his lips to John's, so he didn't linger for long, pulling back to look at him, partially to speak the single word, and partially to gauge his reaction.</p><p>"Okay."</p><p> </p><p>John also smiles into the kiss; it probably didn't mean anything, but he still enjoyed it. His hand slides down to where Dirk holds his hip, fingers curling around the back of his hand momentarily, but he pulls it away when Dirk agrees. The smile returns, a little flat, before John holds his wrist. "Okay."</p><p>He tugs Dirk gently toward his room, wondering why he bothered to put clothes on in the first place. At least before he had enough sense to just stay in his towel.</p><p>When they're through the door, he drops Dirk's arm to head toward his end table, pulling open the drawer to grab what they'd need. "Wanna do anything specific tonight?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk takes the smile, even if it didn't reach John's ears, and doesn't dwell on why it makes him feel sort of hollow inside. He wasn't here to think. He'd done enough of that for the past two weeks.</p><p>He follows closely after John, taking a seat on the edge of his bed in order to kick off his shoes as he watches him fish through the nightstand drawer. Dirk seems to take a moment to consider that question, before speaking up matter of factly. The answer <em>wasn't</em> an answer, but at the same time, it spoke volumes. The closer he could get to completely losing control, the better he'd feel. It was a tried and true method.</p><p>"I'm a masochist."</p><p> </p><p>That... wasn't <em>exactly</em> what he was going for, but it got the point across well enough. His eyes widen momentarily before John shrugs. "Okay. But like. That still doesn't tell me much!"</p><p>He leaves the condom and jar of lubricant on the end table, stripping out of his shirt before sitting beside him. "There's like. A lot of ways that could go. Do you wanna be tied up? Made fun of? Hit? Because I'm not gonna punch you, but I can get rough with the handling, that's fine."</p><p>He laughs a little at himself as he works on the button to his pants. "I was mainly asking what positions you wanted to try. But I can work with this."</p><p> </p><p>"Take some creative liberties. Don't punch me, though." Dirk follows John's lead, tugging off his hoodie and jostling his shades in the process. He drops it on the floor, but puts his glasses carefully on the nightstand as his attention turns back to John. He watches him start to unbutton his pants, but quickly grabs his wrist to halt the motion. "Leave them on."</p><p>He quickly realizes that that request could be perceived a lot differently than what he was intending, so he quickly clarifies. "I like the power dynamic."</p><p>He lets John's wrist go in favor of getting to his feet and wriggling his own too tight jeans down his thighs, and letting them drop to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>John's slowly starting to think that this might be something they need to talk more about. He'd had one particular relationship who enjoyed some similar things, and curiosity afterward made him read up on some more options that were fun to explore once in a while, but after they broke up he never really had the interest to keep it going. But it was still something you <em>talked about</em>. It was risky.</p><p>He decides to keep it on the lighter side just in case. The request to keep his pants on was an odd one, but he thought he could get behind it. "Sure." John watches him silently after that, at least still able to appreciate the sight of his skin being revealed.</p><p>When Dirk's pants fall to the floor, John stands and slides his arms around his waist, kissing his chest and slowly moving around behind him. "We really <em>should</em> talk some more if this is the kind of shit you're into."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk tilts his head to watch John as he circles around him, his fingers hooked in the waistband of his own boxers. He didn't push them down though, leaving the honor to John, if he chose to take it.</p><p>He remembered having a similar conversation with Jake forever ago, now. Though, he'd been the one to initiate it. It was strange to have it again. And, consequently, strange to trust someone else with having him at his most vulnerable.</p><p>Hm.</p><p>"Maybe so. My safeword is Rainbow Dash."</p><p> </p><p>John takes his time walking around him. hands stroking over his hips and back, touching the insides of his thighs momentarily before he rests his hands over Dirk's, slipping his fingers around his grip to get hold of the fabric.</p><p>But when he hears Dirk's safeword, his entire body locks up. He desperately holds back his honk of laughter, and instead presses his forehead against Dirk's spine. He shakes his head like that, twisting his hair up into a little swirl.</p><p>"Jesus christ, Dirk. Fine, but that'll kill my boner so quick, it's effectively a safeword for both of us. Weird asshole." He grabs the waistband of his boxers firmly, then uses them to push Dirk forward until they reach the bed. John pushes his chest out to urge him to bend over the mattress without talking or moving his hands.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk could practically feel the laughter threatening to escape John, and it makes that little smile reappear on his face as he shakes his head against him. He's just opening his mouth to inform John that <em>'no, he isn't weird, <strong>bronies</strong> are weird, and in this essay he will-'</em> but instead John grabs tight to his boxers and moves him until his knees hit the side of the mattress.</p><p>Dirk takes the hint, and obliges in bending over for John, resting his elbows on the bed. He glances briefly back to John once he was settled. What was he saying?</p><p>"It's not weird. Bronies are weird. The literal concept alone of sexualizing such a spunky little pony from a cartoon for little girls is utterly absurd. Which is why her name is a perfect safeword for a sane fan of the show. Instant softness."</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't bother fighting the new round of laughter that breathes out of him, and he hates how fond he feels for this dumbass talking about My Little Pony. "Okay. You have a point. But you're still an asshole."</p><p>He almost kisses Dirk's shoulderblade before remembering that he wanted something specific, so Johh slips into character, humor slipping off his face. It's replaced with an unaffected expression, as though John was bored with their situation, indulging Dirk. Which, he supposes, the latter part was true. His hands shift so one is pressing against the center of his back while the other slips beneath the boxers, fingers curling over his ass to give him a solid grope.</p><p>It's been a while since he's played this game, so he's not sure if he's getting it completely down, or even if it's what Dirk wants to begin with, but John hopes he'll clue him in if need be.</p><p> </p><p>"I resent that," Dirk murmurs, feeling that stupidly warm sensation in his chest again when he hears John laugh. It feels like a win, for some reason.</p><p>It feels even more like a win when the smile disappears off John's face, replaced with an expression that was almost severe. It makes something deep within Dirk stir with excitement, one that doubles when John's hand slips into his boxers to squeeze his ass.</p><p>"You're supposed to be playing the role of the big bad here, not me, despite your disapproval of my excellent safeword. If anything, you're the asshole." Dirk teases.</p><p> </p><p>God, he'd love to keep this banter going. It's so hard to resist - John loves being able to joke around in bed with his partners, but this also feels kind of like a test again. But it's one he doesn't intend to fail. He could show Dirk that he was capable of the kinds of things Dirk wanted. He was <em>faceted</em>.</p><p>The expression doesn't waver, and John even manages to tuck in a corner of his mouth so he looks disappointed. He returns his grip, tight around Dirk's waist as he pushes him down lower so he can lean over his back again. "I think you need to shut the hell up and learn to take what you're given." He hopes Dirk doesn't look back and see just the faintest bit of hesitation flit over his face before he can push his hand into Dirk's hair and shove his head down into the mattress. Thank <em>fuck</em> he took his glasses off, or Dirk'd probably be getting stabbed in the face by now.</p><p>He pauses just long enough to gauge a reaction before continuing.</p><p> </p><p>If Dirk ever had any doubt about just how into being utterly dominated he was, it would have been instantly disproved by the way his dick instantly twitches at John's words. It was like half the blood in his body immediately zeroed in between his legs.</p><p>A slight gasp escapes Dirk's lips as his head is shoved down against the bed, and there was a moment of silence as he reveled in the sensation. It was then that he did the best he could to look up at John, his eyes lidded, and an absolutely shit eating <em>smirk</em> on his face.</p><p>"Why don't you make me?"</p><p> </p><p>He almost... <em>almost</em> breaks composure at that. The reserve melts away, all the worry that this wasn't actually what Dirk wanted floating off with it. His lips give just the slightest twitch, eyebrows bouncing down as he fights the urge to smirk right back at him, and instead John turns it into a heavy scowl. "Spoiled bastard."</p><p>He grips a fistful of Dirk's hair, using it to smear his face into the sheets again before tugging sharply up, making him bow backward. "You wanna try that again?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk <em>saw</em> the threat of a smile on John's face, and for some reason, it thrilled him even more than that deep, disapproving scowl did.</p><p>A small hiss escapes Dirk's teeth as he's yanked so quickly upward by his hair, the smirk wavering on his face. He considers pushing John's limits - to see just how far he could poke and prod him until he really, truly got him riled the fuck up. But, John did have a point about discussing this shit beforehand. Maybe next time.</p><p>"Fine, you got me. I'll be good." He says, the smile still teasing at his lips.</p><p> </p><p>He kind of doubts that, but John plays along. "Better." One final tug before he drops him, not caring if Dirk catches himself or smacks down onto the bed. He does grab one of his wrists to make it more difficult though, pulling back and bending it at the elbow behind Dirk. He shoves his other hand down the back of the boxers again, and pushes his fingers up between his ass.</p><p>He's not stupid enough to try anything dry, but maybe the threat of it would do something for Dirk as his calloused fingertip rubs over his hole.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was fast enough to catch himself on an elbow, but there's a strain when John grabs his wrist - the angle was off with both his arms like this, and he ends up just letting himself settle facedown on the mattress.</p><p>He was already sporting a half chub, as embarrassing as that was, and the hand delving under his boxers did nothing to curb his enthusiasm. He knew John was attentive enough not to go in dry, but the press of his finger over his entrance still had Dirk tensing, a small curse escaping his lips.</p><p>"Fuck, John."</p><p> </p><p>He pushes a little more insistently, wiggling the digit over his rim and threatening to spread him with it before pulling back fully, standing behind him and pushing the boxers down to Dirk's ankles.</p><p>John holds his hips, picking him up by them and rubbing the slowly growing tent in his pants between the crease. He leans over Dirk's back, grinding into him, then bites at his shoulder. Once he's satisfied with the indentations of his teeth in the skin, he presses a kiss over it. "Maybe next time, yeah?" Hands stroke up and down Dirk's arms before he bends both of them, pinning them with one of his at the small of Dirk's back while he reaches for the lube.</p><p> </p><p>A small noise escapes Dirk's throat at the bite and the feeling of the roughness of fabric against his bare ass, warmth spreading over his face while John makes him crumble so quickly. He'd barely even touched him for fuck's sake, Dirk was blushing like a virgin just from a little manhandling.</p><p>Dirk only gives the slightest bit of resistance as John folds his arms behind his back and holds. He couldn't see what he was doing, but based on the single handed approach, he assumed John was after the lube.</p><p>"Y-Yeah- yeah. Next time." And now he was stuttering? Jesus fuck, why was he being so embarrassing tonight?</p><p> </p><p>Dirk might not have liked it, but that uncertain stumble of words shoots right down into John's belly. If Dirk was so receptive to this, he might be willing to do it more often for him.</p><p>John clumsily pops the cap of the lubricant with one hand, turning it so it drizzles into his palm and a little onto the floor before putting it back on the table and smearing the slick over his fingers. He doesn't move his hand off Dirk's wrist, but he steps back and adjusts his position so he can hold him and smear the lubricant over his crease. When Dirk's wet enough, he pushes his middle finger into him without trying to work him open first.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk jolts at the coldness of the lube on his warm skin, momentarily put off, but it quickly warms thanks to John's fingers.</p><p>Speaking of. Despite the lube, there's a slight sting that makes Dirk's breath hitch, instinctively tensing when John's finger presses into him, but it doesn't last long. He's relaxing after just a few seconds, shifting his hips. It's subtle enough that it doesn't seem intentional that he's pressing back against him, even though it's exactly what he's doing.</p><p> </p><p>John winces when his finger is clenched around, but Dirk readjusts quickly, shifting and taking just a little more of him, so he takes it as a good sign. He's really not into the rougher stuff, even if he's willing to play along with it, so he kind of disconnects a little while he pumps his finger into him, forcing him open with a second only after about a minute.</p><p>John stretches them as wide as the rim around them will comfortably allow before pulling back out. He chews his lower lip, considering. Dirk probably wanted to be pinned or something like that, but John kind of wants to try something else. He curls his toes around his discarded shirt, lifting it into reach so he can start winding it around Dirk's wrists to hold them in place. It's not as tight as he'd like, and even if Dirk weren't unexpectedly strong he'd be able to pull out of the hold. But John hopes he decides to go along with it since he doesn't have any cord and he doesn't want to use his tie.</p><p>He smacks Dirk's butt lightly before stepping back. "Stay."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk repeats the same when John presses in the second finger, but relaxes even faster this time. John opening him up so quickly was wildly juxtaposed to the slow (but admittedly eager) pace of their first time together, but it was hard for Dirk to resist succumbing to the pleasantly painful stretch. He lets out a small hiss when John spreads his fingers wide, his eyes starting to flutter, before immediately snapping open once he feels the restraint tying his wrists.</p><p>Was that John's entire shirt? He resists the urge to tease him, partly because now isn't the time to go on a tangent about the superiority of his authentic Japanese shibari ropes, and partly because of that quick slap to his ass. He looks over his shoulder once again.</p><p>"Fuck, what? Where are you going?"</p><p> </p><p>All he does is take a step back to unzip his pants, and Dirk has to go and act like John was leaving him there overnight. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and gives him another slap, harder this time. "Keep your head down, you needy fuck. I'm not going anywhere."</p><p>He readjusts the shirt once his dick is hanging out of the opening, and makes sure it's digging into his wrists a little before he snatches the still-open jar so he can start slicking himself up.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's breath hitches in a gasp at the slap to his ass, and feels a familiar prickle of embarrassment reddening his face further. But for once in his time with John, it's the good kind of humiliation. He lowers his head. His next words are slightly muffled with the press of one of his cheeks to the mattress, but the breathless quality of his voice was loud and clear.</p><p>"Do that again."</p><p> </p><p>John lets himself laugh this time, pushing some forced mockery in the tone as he digs his fingers in the soft skin of Dirk's ass. "Wow. Damn, I'm sorry, were you <em>telling</em> me to do something? Tsk." He purposely removes his hands from him this time.</p><p>"When did you get the idea I was doing any of this for you?" Which is funny because <em>all</em> of it was for Dirk, but it sounded like a good thing to say. "Ask."</p><p> </p><p>"God fucking-" Dirk huffs out the half formed curse, doing a terrible job of disguising his impatience, and the way that John's snarky tone was spreading that warmth further in the pit of his stomach. Normally, he wasn't as bad about keeping shit like that under wraps. But John was genuinely throwing him for a loop with how fucking <em>good</em> at this he was.</p><p>"<em>Please,</em> John, will you do that again?" He obliges.</p><p> </p><p>John hmms, dripping more lubricant over Dirk's ass to be rubbed in later. He clicks the cap closed before calmly putting it back in the drawer, then tears open the condom packet. "I dunno. I'm picking up some attitude. Try again. You don't have to mean it, but at <em>least</em> try to be a better actor, Strider."</p><p> </p><p>Something about that line strikes Dirk with the strangest pang of familiarity. He shakes it off just as quickly as it came.</p><p>He flinches at the cold of the gel again, his hips shifting in discomfort in the few seconds before it warms, and narrows his eyes at John over his shoulder. Despite the expression, Dirk's pupils were blown wide with lust. "Are you really going to make me beg for you to spank me?"</p><p> </p><p>He gives Dirk a placid, empty smile (purposefully this time) as he rolls the condom on and uses his wet fingers to make up for the terrible excuse for lubrication that comes with it. When it's properly covering him, John steps up closer behind him again. He at least touches him, squeezing and smearing the oily liquid between his crease and up over his ass needlessly.</p><p>"I'm going to make you beg for everything you want if you keep this up. I could go find a belt to make sure you don't break out of the hold, if this is how you're going to talk to me."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watches out of the corner of his eye as John rolls on the rubber, those slick touches between his legs doing absolutely nothing to sate his growing eagerness. He almost calls John's bluff - he played the role of a brutal top awfully well, but would he really go that far this fast?</p><p>Dirk wasn't about to find out, despite himself. He breathes a rough sigh, his face turning further into the bedsheets to hide the ever-present redness. "Fine."</p><p>His voice settles out, and he drops his attitude right alongside his dignity. "Will you please spank me?"</p><p> </p><p>John is absolutely glad Dirk isn't looking at him when he asks, because he lights up just as red as he can barely see Dirk is. He's also glad he doesn't have to find a belt because the only one he has is for more formal occasions and rarely worn, so it's incredibly stiff and would very likely cut into Dirk's wrists.</p><p>He considers splurging on some silk rope later on if this happens often, though.</p><p>"There it is." His hands relax from their tight hold, stroking over his skin as John moves to the side, pressing his hip into the bed. He genuinely didn't think he'd be doing <em>this</em> tonight, but whatever, if Dirk was into it, he'd have some fun.</p><p>John flattens his palm, fingers almost curved backward and out of the way as he rubs a small circle where over the roundest point of Dirk's butt, then drapes his other arm across his back, holding on to the hip on his other side to keep him steady as he brings his hand down onto him.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk mumbles something unintelligible at the praise, his brows slightly furrowing. He had an incredibly tumultuous love-hate relationship with begging. It was one thing to act desperate, but it was another thing entirely to put that desperation into words. It always lit him up inside.</p><p>He recognizes the classic telltale warning when John's hand smooths over his ass, his thighs visibly tensing in anticipation. He was expecting the first smack, but he still jolts at the force, a small groan leaving his throat.</p><p>"<em>Fuck.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't even the first spank, but the sound still seems louder than he thought possible as it echoes around his room. John takes a moment to catch his breath, not aware he'd been holding it until now. He takes a moment just to touch and squeeze that area, tilting his head to better hear whatever Dirk was whispering into his bed.</p><p>"Fuck?" He almost breaks character again, ready to say something dumb like 'but i thought you wanted me to spank you so badly, make up your mind!' until he catches himself and recovers. "That's all you can say? No 'thank you'? No asking for more? Thought you were supposed to be great with words, Strider."</p><p>He smacks his hand down again on the same spot before angling his wrist to better reach the other cheek.</p><p> </p><p>He still couldn't place exactly what it was, his brain too scrambled with want, but that feeling of familiarity returned when John spoke. Something about the degradation, punctuated so matter of factly with his last name. It turned something pleasant in his stomach.</p><p>Dirk doesn't jump this time, his thighs still tense, his hands curling into fists at the small of his back as he takes the next hit with electricity racing down his spine. "I'm sorry, fuck, just - please."</p><p> </p><p>John gives his hip a little pat of approval before setting into him. He's not sure how much or how long it's meant to go on for, but he's sure Dirk will let him know when it's time to move on to something else.</p><p>Most of the smacks are evenly spaced and mild, but John throws in a couple sharper ones than usual, occasionally shifting to a new spot to avoid any building pain or discomfort. He's redfaced still, enjoying the little sounds from his partner, but he's not super into the situation personally. He likes it more because <em>Dirk</em> likes it and is reacting so well to it. "Good boy." His voice stays level, but John still winces, feeling the praise awkward on his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk never did take too well to praise. It was a bit of a different story when he was already well and out of his mind, when it went on heavy and thick like molasses. At this point though, it didn't do a thing to spur on or snuff out the arousal from every hit John gave him. But John couldn't have known that, yet, after all. Dirk had made it a point to jump in the deep end, with little to no guidelines for him to follow.</p><p>It didn't take too long for Dirk's impatience to take hold again, his cock aching from the lack of stimulation, and he shifted his weight, lifting his head just long enough to speak.</p><p>"Fuck me. I-" Dirk quickly doubles back to correct himself, his voice low and slightly hoarse. "Will you please fuck me?"</p><p> </p><p>He's glad Dirk speaks up when he does, because John's hand is prickling and he's... honestly a little bored. Dirk's not giving those sweet reactions as often so it just feels kind of like a chore to keep this up.</p><p>He perks right up when he's asked to move on, and he's even more pleased when Dirk phrases it so nicely. John rubs the tender skin, bends low to press a kiss to the curve of his ass - just for himself - before moving behind him again. His plan is a little complicated, but John's sure he'll work through it. "You think you're ready for me?" It's a genuine question but with a mocking tone as John lines himself up. He's still kind of soft, but brushing the tip of his dick upward along his asscrack starts to take care of that.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's fingers curl and uncurl where they rest in fists at his lower back, turning his head to press his forehead back down against the mattress. He barely even registers the small kiss pressed to his skin, all of his attention focused on the warmth and light pressure of John lining himself up.</p><p>"<em>Yes</em>, fuck, please."</p><p> </p><p>John shivers, wishes this was a more affectionate night between them, and pushes slowly into Dirk. He doesn't thrust and doesn't go much deeper than halfway. This was the tricky part. It would have been easier if they were facing one another, but this was how the chips fell.</p><p>As soon as he's confident he won't slip out again, John hooks his arms under Dirk's thighs, palms pressed to his belly as he lifts him up so he's leaned back against his chest. It's also just awkward with his arms there, and once again John regrets his choices before readjusting his hold. "You good?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk breathes out a contented sigh when John presses into him, and has just a moment to wonder why he doesn't sink in to the hilt before John is <em>lifting</em> him. He goes to scramble for something to hold onto, but his hands are quite literally tied, and wedged between his back and John's chest. Christ, that was hot. He gives a single, quick nod.</p><p>"Holy shit. Yes, I'm- yeah."</p><p> </p><p>It seemed kind of risky, so John leans back, spreading his legs for a better stance, but keeps close to the bed just in case. He works his hands down to instead squeeze around Dirk's legs just above the knee, holding them bent and out in front of him at an angle. It was the most secure position he could manage with his forearms supporting most of his weight.</p><p>He wouldn't be able to get very deep like this, but that wasn't really the point. And they could always finish off on the bed.</p><p>John just breathes for a moment, nuzzling his nose into the crook between Dirk's neck and shoulder. He can't reach very well, which means lowering him onto his dick was all the more satisfying. His hands shift again, fingers holding him tightly as he groans into Dirk's ear. "<em>Fuck...</em>"</p><p> </p><p>If he minded that John wasn't able to take him deep when he lowered him, he most definitely didn't show it - if anything, the complete lack of control he had in this position was doing more than enough for him already.</p><p>The proximity alone of that groan so close to his stupidly sensitive ears has a pleasant shiver tearing through him and he breathes a moan, his head tipping back to rest against John's shoulder as the tension winds in his body, letting John hold him tight to keep the balance.</p><p> </p><p>He's a little too focused on safety and being reliable to get <em>super</em> into it, but John enjoys it just the same, lifting and lowering Dirk onto himself at a decent pace. He'd go faster if Dirk could hold on to him or the wall or something, but for right now he thinks he's doing a decent enough job.</p><p>Forgetting himself, John rests his head against Dirk's, pressing a kiss to his temple until - oh right, he's supposed to be a sadist here. So he turns his head just a little more to the side so he can bite down on the shell of Dirk's ear, panting into him. He works on getting his hips to do most of the work, pumping up into him so he doesn't have to lower him so far and he can move a little faster.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's brows only furrow for a split second at the kiss, but before he opens his eyes John's mouth was on his ear, hot breath ghosting over his skin and wrenching a sound from Dirk that sounded a whole lot like a whimper through his panting.</p><p>The second John starts to move, Dirk realizes this supposedly perfect position he'd come to admire is <em>just barely</em> off from hitting his prostate, enough to make his toes curl with want and his nails to dig crescents into his clenched palms. It was driving him wild - every thrust as he went on so slightly missing that bundle of nerves, and if he didn't know any better, he would think it was exactly what John wanted. It didn't take long for him to cave.</p><p>"Fuck, it's- I need- more, <em>deeper,</em>" He stutters out in a rush of breath.</p><p> </p><p>There's one of those sounds he enjoys so much. John moans and runs his tongue over the back of Dirk's ear before realizing he's not that into that and turning to bite and suck at his neck, just under his ear instead. He enjoys his steady pace, letting himself separate from the situation long enough so he can gradually build back into it, but Dirk's voice drags him back before he's ready.</p><p>He bares his teeth, rumbling out a little impatient growl. It might be possible for Dirk to take him deeper if he bends his legs up higher, but that'd sacrifice a lot of John's control over whether he'd fall or not.</p><p>"You can take me like this, or I can put you down. Don't be greedy."</p><p> </p><p>"God <em>damn</em> it," Dirk breathes, absolutely despising the way that John's tone of voice made his dick twitch. He hated playing hot potato with the fate of his own orgasm, but <em>fuck</em> if he didn't melt at being so thoroughly toyed with and controlled. It was, regrettably, totally worth it.</p><p>Dirk wasn't at the point of begging just yet, but if John kept it up like this, it wouldn't take much longer to have him pleading for John to just throw him down and fuck him senseless into the mattress. He didn't argue with him - just let him take him however he saw fit.</p><p>"Fine."</p><p> </p><p>John almost laughs again, huffing into his ear. "Are you <em>pouting</em>?" He'd intended that to be a choice, because while John thought he could keep this up a while longer, it definitely wasn't the kind of thing he could do until he got off. Maybe, again, if Dirk's arms weren't awkwardly bound and he was facing him, then they could have a slow lazy upright fucking, but this was clearly meant to be more intense. And he wanted Dirk to be the one to make the decision.</p><p>He considers leaning back against the wall, or angling Dirk toward it - but either way that'd mess up his angle even more, so John does his best to roll his thrusts forward.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>No.</em> I would just prefer it if you'd bend me over and fuck me until I can't see straight." Dirk gripes, head lolling on John's shoulder, admittedly sounding a bit defensive at his observation. Maybe he was pouting just a little bit, but fuck John for noticing.</p><p>"You're, ah, avoiding my goddamn prostate like it's the plague and you're waiting for a cure, and if that's the case, bro, this is it. Your dick is the fucking cure. <em>Fuck me.</em> Deeper, harder, whatever the fuck you want me to say, holy shit." His mumbled rambling was breathless and halfhearted, because despite his complaints, he was still feeling pretty fucking good.</p><p> </p><p>"Mhm." There's a new flush spreading over his cheeks as Dirk lists his demands, and part of him wholly enjoys it, but the part of him that's running the show right now thinks he's being bossy and entirely too mouthy. After a teasingly slow thrust, allowing Dirk to settle as low as he could hold him onto his dick, John steps right up to the bed and bumps his chest forward suddenly.</p><p>It knocks Dirk out of his arms - and off of his dick, but that was fine - and John grabs his arms as he hits the bed to keep him from yanking them out of the shirt to catch himself. "Your analogy was kinda shit, but I'll let that slide for now." He thinks Dirk just wanted the excuse to say 'your dick is the cure' which is <em>hilarious</em> and he fully intends on mocking him about it later but first he has to spread his thighs and line himself up again.</p><p>John keeps one hand on Dirk's wrists, using the other to press his thumb between his cheeks, just to pull him open and look for a moment before sliding back into him, angling <em>down</em>. "How's that?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was just about to continue complaining - considering John was intent on teasing him with that slow thrust, and hadn't gone out of his way to shut him up just yet - when he was dropped nonchalantly onto the bed, face first.</p><p>Dirk instinctively starts to wrench his arms from the restraint to catch himself and avoid landing on his literal face and dick, but strong hands take hold of them and prevent him from breaking his fall. Dirk curses, teeth clacking together when he hits the bed. It didn't hurt, of course - it was a mattress, not a concrete floor - so the way his eyes narrowed at John over his shoulder was entirely for show.</p><p>Dirk opened his mouth now that he had something else to complain about, but ended up cutting himself off this time with a quick '<em>Fuck, yes, right there,</em>' when John finally, <em>finally</em> brushed his prostate. He uses what leverage he does have to shift his hips, pressing just slightly back against him.</p><p> </p><p>John almost wished Dirk <em>had</em> complained again, firstly because he thought his complaints were funny and clever, but also because it'd give him the opportunity to set a punishing pace. Then again, when Dirk almost begs, he supposes that's a good enough reason.</p><p>He leans forward, putting more weight on Dirk's back and arms as he rears back his hips and slaps into him, keeping that spot in mind. "You're still so bossy! If you want to be in charge so bad maybe I should just let you fuck yourself on my dick for a while. Let you tire yourself out." John squeezes his wrists tighter, unable at the moment to uphold his threat as he barely pulls out for each quick, sharp thrust.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk can't help but cry out after that first deep thrust, his arms tensing against John's hold as he leans more of his weight on them. His face flushes a hot red when he can't keep in his noise, panting softly and burying his face into the bed as John works up a quick rhythm.</p><p>"Y-you're, <em>mh,</em> you're such an -- ah, fuck..." Dirk is unable to finish whatever surely scathing quip he had on the tip of his tongue, because now that John was hitting him just right, it was really fucking hard to form a coherent thought. But he was still pretty good at making demands. "Don't stop."</p><p> </p><p>"Such a <em>what</em>, Strider?" He enunciates the question with another rough thrust, and for a moment John wants to stop just to be a dick, but he thinks that might be more annoying than enjoyable. Dirk seems to be into it anyway, so while he thinks maybe he wasn't as rough as he'd have liked, the two of them were still enjoying themselves.</p><p>So he doesn't stop, instead varying his pattern up a bit more so it'd be jarring enough to prolong the moment without breaking the mood. John's panting, mouth open, and he wonders if maybe he should start lifting weights again, maybe do some more woodworking as a hobby because he feels like he might be a little out of shape. Or maybe he's just into this quite a bit.</p><p> </p><p>"An <em>asshole,</em>" Dirk huffs, turning his head just to make himself heard. He didn't mean that, not really, anyway. But John was working him into a frenzy with every rough thrust and that unrelenting pace, and there was that stupid, excellent, viscerally satisfying use of his last name again that always gave Dirk the nagging sensation that it would seem more suited coming from someone else's lips.</p><p>He still didn't quite understand where that feeling was coming from, and he didn't have enough brain power to dwell on it while he was getting plowed - only enough to firmly decide that his dopamine levels were sky high right now, and sex was always an excellent cure for feeling shitty over things he didn't care to think about.</p><p> </p><p>John barks out a single laugh before grabbing Dirk's hips. His voice drops as his movements still for a moment. "Cheeky," he mutters, before dragging Dirk back with him so only his upper torso is resting on the bed. John's thighs are spread wide, forcing Dirk's open so he couldn't get any friction on his dick if he tried. "You should probably... think things <em>through</em> before saying them."</p><p>It's easier to move Dirk around like this, mostly using him to drag over his cock, resuming the previous sensation of just having a cumbersome toy in his hands. "Apologize."</p><p> </p><p>The momentum Dirk had going completely falters when John stops in that brief moment, both the rhythm of John's thrusts and the minute friction Dirk was getting from the bed coming to a halt as he was pulled back against him. He didn't care to resist, pliant like putty in John's hands as he gripped his hips, only squirming because he desperately needed him to pick the pace back up.</p><p>"I'm <em>sorry,</em>" He fought to even his breath, pressing his forehead back against the mattress as he spoke with clear impatience in his voice. "That you're being a cocky asshole."</p><p> </p><p>"Thought that was what you wanted." He smirks and smacks a hand over the side of Dirk's ass, groping the still-red skin before adjusting his stance. It's tempting to kiss his skin again, hold him, appreciate how they fit together, but John holds it all back. Getting off was supposed to be the main goal here, and the longer he was a tease the longer that would take.</p><p>He bends over the other man, sliding his belly over the curve of his backside with each thrust. There's sweat starting to bead along his hairline and across his forehead. "<em>You like it.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk jolts and lets another moan slip, the hit to his ass admittedly catching him off guard and making him clench around John. His breathing was labored, all gasps and stuttered exhales as John shifts his angle just slightly to lean over him. He could feel a familiar coil of heat introducing itself in his gut, and as much as he was enjoying the restraint, he <em>really</em> fucking wished he had enough use of his hands right now to slip one between his legs.</p><p>"Christ, wh- what gave you that idea?" Dirk quips sarcastically, though his commentary really doesn't hold as much bite when he's a trembling mess underneath John.</p><p> </p><p>John has to bite down on a groan threatening to spill out when the pressure around him tightens, but it doesn't stop him from pounding into Dirk for a few seconds. He spanks him one more time for good measure before stepping forward, using his hips to push the two of them further up the bed and sliding even deeper into him. He can't stop the next breathy moan, but what could you do.</p><p>"You and your <em>fuckin'</em> mouth. Damn. You still just can't keep it shut, huh? I should've gagged you when I had the chance. Maybe I should-" John unintentionally cuts himself off with a little grunt from a rougher thrust before continuing the thought. "-Use my fingers to shut you up."</p><p> </p><p>"God, <em>yes,</em>" Dirk practically keens, feeling another swirl of heat in the pit of his stomach at John's words. He has to turn his head when John pushes him up the bed so as not to drag his face along the comforter, his body rocking in alternate rhythm with the force of his rougher thrusts. His cock was achingly hard and dripping beneath him, and it makes him realize he could think of a much better use of those fingers. He doesn't think before he speaks. He's running on autopilot, his mind hazy with lust and desperation, and hungry for more of this treatment he could only ever get from one person. The only person he'd ever been stupid enough to ask to take him apart.</p><p>"T-Touch me, <em>fuck</em>, Jake, please t-"</p><p>It's as if Dirk is plunged into cold water with how quickly his entire body freezes, lidded eyes shooting wide open. There was a sharp intake of breath, whatever he was trying to beg for gone completely forgotten as he falls into stunned silence.</p><p> </p><p>John huffs, smiles, and starts sliding his hand up Dirk's back, over his loosely bound arms. He's intending it to be more of a threatening gesture, not sure if he actually wants to shove his fingers in the guy's mouth or not, but touching his lips and tongue sounds pretty fucking hot. His body presses a little more firmly down on Dirk's, chest brushing against his hands, and he really wishes he'd put more thought into what he was going to do. But to be fair, Dirk only mentioned the masochism thing when they were already in the bedroom, so planning wasn't really an option.</p><p>His fingers curl around Dirk's shoulder, squeezing, and he uses the hold to help him push back into the thrusts. John's considering the gagging thing again when Dirk starts begging, wondering if he should comply with the plea, or stop him from talking entirely, when the realization hits. His lips purse, confused and wondering if maybe it'd been a mistake, if he misheard. But Dirk's reaction, the way his whole body goes tense, the quiet gasp...</p><p>John slows to a stop, feeling a knot grow from the pit of his stomach, sending ice slithering up his spine and outward. "Who-" He bites that question off immediately, and can already tell he's going soft, so he pulls out and steps away. John doesn't know if Dirk wants to stop, despite the sudden halt, so he slumps his shoulders before pushing three fingers up into him to make up for the loss. <em>One</em> of them should get off, after all the work they put into it.</p><p> </p><p>As much as Dirk would have loved to let John push him to his climax, there was no moving past the feeling of dread injected straight into his veins. He can feel his heart sink into the pit of his stomach with every tense second that passes, and he goes cold when the single word leaves John's mouth.</p><p>He was such a fucking idiot.</p><p>Dirk doesn't let John's attempt at fingering him get very far - he's untangling his wrists from the makeshift restraint with little to no struggle and pushing his hand away completely. He scrambles to roll over and sit up, despite everything in his body telling him that if just the brief silence and the eventual sound of John's voice were enough to instill him with such a deep feeling of shame and regret, the look on his face would likely break him altogether.</p><p>He can't help but look up to meet John's eyes after he's upright, a mixture of concern, shock, and the barest hint of fear written all over his face.</p><p>"John-"</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't fight it when Dirk pushes his hand away, and the only thought in his head is that maybe he should have helped take the shirt away but by the time he considers this, Dirk is already flipping over to look at him. John hasn't looked anywhere higher than his chest at this point, and he has no intention of meeting any sort of eye contact, but when it's pretty clear the moment is over, he slips the condom off and drops it into the trashcan.</p><p>As he's determinedly keeping his gaze lowered and his expression blank, he considers the name. The only Jake he 'knew' (and he used the term lightly) was a friend of Jane's that she's mentioned from time to time. John doesn't know if that makes it feel better or worse so he just blankets the adjective 'awkward' over all of it before it gets weirder. "Don't worry about it, man." His voice is light, rational, and John stares somewhere around Dirk's right shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk didn't think it was possible for him to feel more like a pile of shit than he did in this exact moment. He doesn't miss that John completely avoids eye contact, and despite the disconnected tone of voice he'd used to attempt to reassure him, Dirk almost felt sick. What the fuck was he thinking? He swallowed thickly, one of his hands rubbing at the side of his neck as his eyes drop from John's face.</p><p>After the next obligatory moment of silence had passed, Dirk was steeling himself, expression falling flat, and moving to get off the bed. He grabs his boxers from the floor, ignoring the way his legs were still trembling from the sex in order to pull them back on and start to redress. There wasn't any place for him here right now, and the sooner he was able to get out of John's hair at this point, the better. He dresses himself in silence.</p><p> </p><p>When he can work himself up to it, John turns to sit on the edge of the mattress beside Dirk, just in time for Dirk to stand. He can't say anything right away, but when he realizes the other man's getting dressed, he feels guilty. Tonight was supposed to be what Dirk wanted - something without any emotional hangups. And he didn't even get off. John fills his lungs, staring down at his own discarded shirt for lack of anything else he thought he could look at.</p><p>"Really, it's no big deal, Dirk. We've only been on like half a date. We don't-" His mouth works soundlessly for a moment when John doesn't know what else to add, but he's pretty sure it won't matter anyway. His argument sounded pretty empty, even to himself.</p><p>John tries again, twisting the shirt in his lap. "It doesn't matter. You don't have to go, we can still finish this if you want." There's an odd tingling, trickling sensation moving up John's throat and along the sides of his jaw, like he's smelled something very sour or vinegary. "Stay."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk hesitates where he'd been buttoning up his jeans. He was caught in limbo between immense confusion that John wasn't forcibly removing him from the apartment, and a crushing, sickening feeling of guilt. Dirk might have been terrible at reading people, but he would have a be a fucking idiot to think that John <em>wasn't</em> bothered by this. He had a right to be. It was humiliating, and stupid, and <em>insulting</em> that Dirk would be humoring the thought of someone else's dick while he was in bed with John. And it was humiliating, stupid, and insulting that Dirk was fucked up enough in the head to let it happen in the first place.</p><p>So why the hell was he asking him to stay? Was Dirk really that pitiful that John was guilted into finishing him off? It wouldn't fucking surprise him, honestly, but that didn't seem right. He couldn't understand his motivations whatsoever. But even if Dirk had somehow completely misread the situation, and John genuinely didn't mind, that didn't mean Dirk was even remotely able to get over himself. John didn't deserve this - to hear the name of his clueless, emotionally constipated ex-boyfriend spill from his lips in the throes of sex, happening for a reason that Dirk was painfully aware of but too <em>afraid</em> to address - but that was a given. The real issue was that in this moment, Dirk didn't deserve <em>him,</em> or his kindness.</p><p>
  <em>He is such a fucking idiot.</em>
</p><p>And he didn't care to break down in front of John, or think about the way that single word made his heart ache in his chest, in a way that he finally understood. He couldn't deal with the consequences of his idiotic actions, so he had to run. Typical. It was no fucking wonder that... <em>no.</em></p><p>Dirk went numb, his voice small as he spoke.</p><p>"I need to go."</p><p> </p><p>The only indication that John's mask was slipping was the way his jaw pushes out as he clenches his his molars together. He still can't look up from the now-abused cloth woven through his fingers, and the back of his mind marvels at how the slightly threadbare shirt hasn't torn yet. It's no doubt never going to fit the same way again, of course, but it must be hardier than he gave it credit for.</p><p>He <em>hates</em> the way Dirk sounds right now, and he wishes he could offer a way to comfort him but he's also just. Bitter. Bitter that it happened, and bitter that instead of... of even fucking <em>apologizing</em>, Dirk was just going to leave. And John didn't really have the graciousness right now to give him another easy way out because he just. Didn't really feel that great right now.</p><p>So John lifts a shoulder, glances at Dirk's knee, and says "Okay."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk swallows thickly, hesitating for just a moment longer before he was tugging on his hoodie, keeping hold of his resolve and making sure to avoid looking at John completely. He steps into his shoes, not even bothering to lace them, and slips his shades onto his face.</p><p>He isn't sure what else to say, because there isn't much he <em>could</em> say. So, he holds his practiced silence and prepares to walk out. His legs take a moment to get that memo, apparently, because his head is turning, eyes darting over to look at John from behind his shades as he stands in place.</p><p>Still not looking at him. Dirk understood. He wouldn't want to look himself in the eye either, but he hates the way it makes a knot form in his stomach.</p><p>Dirk doesn't say anything as he leaves John's bedroom, gathering his wallet, phone, and keys and leaving the apartment just as silently as he'd came. He's suddenly grateful that he'd driven his truck, because he'd rather walk home than have to ask John to chauffer him again. Once he's behind the wheel, he has a realization that only confirms his status as a massive piece of shit.</p><p>He didn't even say he was sorry.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know if it's obvious but somewhere last chapter I stopped proofreading in an effort to speed through these so like. If you see any errors, typos, missing/doubled replies, please tell me so I can fix it! We're... getting closer to the current plot point and I just wanna have this ready to go for when there's another time skip!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bro time!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dave enters and wonders why his two best boys are both a little messed up around the same time. This chapter includes marijuana use!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dave liked to think he was pretty observant. He was nowhere close to Rose’s innate expertise when it came to the analysis of the human psyche, but he had enough experience in this very particular concentration of faux psychiatry to know that something was seriously up with his older brother.</p><p>Dave had thought he was moping before, but Dirk quickly proved to him that he hadn’t seen jack shit yet. As the days went by, Dirk had taken to dragging himself around the apartment in nothing more than an increasingly stained pair of grey sweats, and while his bro was a practiced master at keeping up his level headed aloof schtick, he couldn’t exactly hide the lack of his esteemed self-care. He always smelled like weed and his hair had been left unstyled for days, wavy and long when it was down, a speckling of stubble starting to grow along the line of his jaw. Dave knew Dirk wasn’t sleeping, and when he was it was during the day, considering spotting Dirk for more than a few seconds when the sun was up was like spotting a fucking dorito dust fingered cryptid.</p><p>His robot parts and tools had slowly started to spill into the living room, and even the kitchen table, because he ‘needed multiple creative spaces.’ It was likely just an excuse for him to leave a fucking mess of scrap metal and wires all over without having to clean.</p><p>Dirk insisted he was just busy with a new project the first time Dave asked. The second time, Dave tried to be more specific, asking about his date he’d had a while back. Dave, regrettably, knew plenty about Dirk’s shitty sex coping mechanism, and found it strange that he hadn’t seen anyone around the apartment lately. Dirk said the guy stood him up, to which Dave pointed out that was most definitely a lie, considering he’d spent the night away from home, which he almost never did. The third time Dave asked, it was about Jake. Dirk told him to drop it, and Dave stopped pressing.</p><p>He knew well enough that Jake English was a pretty fucking sore subject. He also knew that as much as Dave cared about Dirk, he wasn’t his brother’s keeper. In fact, if anything, it had always felt the other way around. Dirk was flighty and evasive with his feelings, and while he always put himself out to help Dave through his own struggles, Dirk was practically allergic to letting anyone help him. He’d always been that way, even when they were kids growing up in that deathtrap in Houston with their piece of shit oldest brother. Dave knew whatever he was dealing with right now wasn’t something he could talk about. So, instead of continuing to ask, Dave just kept bullying him into watching movies, playing video games, ordering take out - all the shit they usually did together on a Saturday night. He didn’t know if it was helping, but he liked to think it was better than nothing.</p><p>Speaking of Saturday nights. John was supposed to hang out with him tonight, to make up the debt for when he’d bailed on him a while back. But he was taking forever. Dave had already ordered pizza - a personal hawaiian for Dirk too, the fucking ingrate - and it had arrived before John, somehow. He shot him a text.</p><p>‘pizzas here you arent are you standing me up again egbert you really gotta get in the habit of giving a guy a courtesy text should i invite the delivery guy back upstairs to hang with me instead’</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the night was... John would call it uneventful which isn't inaccurate, but the truth was John just spent most of it wide awake lying in bed. He kept telling himself it didn't matter, but his feelings and pride were both pretty bruised to pretend it meant nothing. After the next few days, he's able to finally believe it, until Dave invites him over and he has a fit at the idea of seeing Dirk again after that whole mess. So he, possibly a little too casually, turns Dave down.</p><p>He goes through the next couple weeks stiffly, but still with a smile when one was required, and further convinces himself that, while it was an uncomfortable and disappointing situation, John barely knew Dirk and shouldn't let him impact his life so easily. Sure, he liked the guy, but they must have not been very compatible for it to fall apart so easily.</p><p>It isn't this that convinces John to take Dave's next offer to come over, through. What overcomes whatever lingering panic and fear is the desire to spend time with his best friend. Even with all the mixed up emotions twisting inside him, the one thing he could wholeheartedly agree with was it was absolutely fucking <em>stupid</em> to let anything get in the way of his friendship with Dave.</p><p>It doesn't stop the trepidation, though, which is why he procrastinates to an unholy level on the day he's supposed to come over. Dave's messages finally push him over the edge, and John gets up from the couch to head for the parking garage.</p><p>'shit, i'll be there in five to ten, i swear! lost track of time, i guess.'</p><p>The lie sits heavier in his gut than he anticipated; it was a small one but he can kind of feel Dave questioning him between the lines and he doesn't know what excuse he's going to give for avoiding him for so long.</p><p>John pulls up to the apartment, slipping the max amount of coins into the meter because he doesn't know if he's going to be a coward and dip out early or not. He can already tell that cowardice is at a high by the time he reaches the front door and can't decide whether he wants to push inside - and risk seeing Dirk - or knock - and risk Dirk answering. It takes him a solid 7 minutes before he wusses out and just texts Dave again.</p><p>'hey! i'm here.'</p><p> </p><p>'a likely story but alright ill bite see you in ten man'</p><p>Dave actually sort of relaxes when John texts him back. He was mostly just jerking John around about blowing him off lately, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss his main dude. It would be nice to hang out with someone other than the girls and his inexplicably depressed brother, for once.</p><p>In the meantime, Dave pockets his phone and takes the smallest pizza box down the hall to Dirk's room. Dirk must have heard him coming, because he swings open the door right when Dave stops in front of it and nearly has him leaping out of his skin. Dirk takes the box and remarks about him being jumpy, the faintest haze of smoke framing him from behind him in his bedroom, and asks if he has a date.</p><p><em>A bro date,</em> Dave clarifies, and sees a flicker of something pass over Dirk's face. He just shrugs a shoulder and closes his door back. Rude.</p><p>Dave settles back onto the futon in the living room, pushing some scrap metal off the coffee table with a clatter that he knows will make Dirk perk up in the other room. He didn't come out to rescue his parts though, instead hiding adamantly in his room to get stoned and eat gross pineapple pizza.</p><p>Dave scrolled through his phone idly until he got the text from John, hopping quickly to his feet and making his way to the door to open it up.</p><p>"What the fuck, you're not the pizza delivery guy."</p><p> </p><p>John's lips twitch up a bit, but he shrugs and fakes an apologetic head-shake. "Sorry man. You're going to have to enact your favorite shitty porn trope some other day. It's just me." His following smile is more genuine than he's given in some time as he steps inside. There's a strange urge to hug his friend, but before he does anything, his eyes dart across the room rapidly.</p><p>Satisfied, John relaxes and instead of hugging Dave he walks over to the futon. His nose wrinkles at the smell of pot, but he doesn't ask. "So what have you got planned for me tonight?"</p><p> </p><p>"Damn, I was really looking forward to that sausage pizza I can't pay for."</p><p>If Dave notices the way John's eyes flit across the room like he's looking for something, he doesn't show it. He follows John to the futon, hopping over the back and fishing the remote out from under his ass when he lands on the cushions.</p><p>"Netflix sans chill, bro. I found a fucking jackpot of shitty D-grade horror movies in the depths of the category." Dave says, leaning forward to tip open the lid of the pizza box and grabbing a slice. "Or we can play smash, and I can demolish your ass into grass with Diddy Kong. Take your pick."</p><p> </p><p>"Gross." That single word and a quieter than usual snicker is the only acknowledgment John gives to the continuation of the joke. He leans to lift the lid and snag a slice of pizza, almost dropping it with a yelp when his friend vaults over the back of the futon, making it shake under him.</p><p>"Jesus!" But he laughs again, reorienting himself and getting comfortable with his pizza. "Uhhh. Bring on the Netflix, I don't feel like being an active part of anything but conversation tonight, dude."</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck, fine, I was holding out hope that you wouldn't pick the lamer choice and lose to me at Smash. I'll save the ass demolishing for next time," Dave teases, pausing as he takes a bite of pizza. It sort of mingled in his mouth with the lingering smell of pot smoke he'd let escape from Dirk's room, but it was fucking pizza, so it was still excellent regardless of the skunky scent.</p><p>Dave pulls up Netflix on their smart TV, picking the profile <em>Applejack</em> rather than <em>Rainbow Dash</em> (because Dirk had apparently changed the names again without his notice) and picks one of the terrible horror movies on his list.</p><p>"Anyway, that was a weird ass thing that just got said. What's up, man? You tired or something?" Dave asks, because typically John wouldn't back down from a challenge like that so easy.</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, sorry for breaking your gamer heart, Dave. Next time for sure." He turns back in time to spot the profile names, and his teeth clack together with the violent, unwanted flash of a memory, but John hides it all behind another bite of pizza. His eyes slide across the title indifferently, forcing himself back in the present and insisting that he was <em>done</em> with all this mess already.</p><p>Unfortunately, Dave decides to start into the feelings jam business, and John readjusts his hold on his pizza with a sigh. "It's no big deal, just. Been-" 'Been busy', he wants to lie, but he can't bring himself to do it. "... Just being a dumbass I guess. Not really feeling top-tier lately."</p><p> </p><p>"You're always a dumbass." Dave says, pulling his legs up onto the couch and tipping his head to look over at John, taking another bite of his pizza slice. His voice drops the jokey quality pretty quickly, though. "But I'm guessing there's like an actual reason for it this time."</p><p>"What's got you down, dude? Lay it on me." Dave sets down his slice before he finishes. "Work problems? Girl problems?"</p><p> </p><p>He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but makes no move to combat the claim. He doesn't know if he wants to talk about this, thinks he shouldn't <em>need</em> to talk about this, and Dave being the person he's speaking <em>to</em> is just... funny in an uncomfortable kind of way. John finishes his slice, leaning to toss the crust in the box like the fucking gremlin he is. He doesn't go for a second right away, shifting uncomfortably on the futon.</p><p>"Uh. Not really either of those, technically. Shouldn't be a problem at all but I'm like. Hyper fixating on it or something, I dunno. It's pretty fucking stupid." He wipes his palms off on the thighs of his jeans, worrying his lower lip. "Come on, man, I thought <em>I</em> was the movie-talker in this relationship," he jokes weakly before going for that second slice just to keep his hands busy. God... he wants to talk to Dave.</p><p> </p><p>"Dude you literally brought it up, was I not supposed to ask, or something? What kind of dipshit friend would I have to be to even." Dave says, but he doesn't sound genuinely offended, despite his words. If anything, there's a hint of concern worming its way into his voice. He wasn't blind, he could see how John had started to fidget like he was uncomfortable, and the way his overbite dug into his lower lip was like a beacon projecting his nervousness.</p><p>"Seriously, dude. What's wrong?"</p><p> </p><p>John frowns into his hands, unhappy with the thin trails of pizza grease starting to find their way down his fingers. "I don't know! I'm just being stupid!" He hasn't even taken a bite and John places the slice back in the box, wiping his hands clean on his calves.</p><p>"I guess I just got attached to someone too fast and now I'm dealing with the consequences." His tone drops even lower, just in case, because if he was going to actually talk about it he wanted to make <em>damn</em> sure he wasn't overheard. He doesn't even know if Dirk is here, but Dave doesn't seem high so he can guess. John pulls his feet up onto the futon after toeing off his shoes, sitting with his knees up against his chest, arms wrapped around them. It's a defensive position.</p><p> </p><p>Dave just stares at him for a moment, frowning. So it <em>was</em> a girl problem. Boy problem? Dave couldn't be sure. Regardless, it piques Dave's curiosity just as much as it spurs on his desire to comfort him when John curls into a protective ball on the futon beside him. He taps a button on the remote to turn down the volume.</p><p>"You're not being stupid, man. That sounds rough, you have a right to be a little hurt, I think. You wanna tell me what happened? Did you get ghosted?"</p><p> </p><p>"Uh. I mean, it's a little more complicated than that..." John starts to do another paranoid glance around the room before catching himself and forcing more of a calm demeanor. He considers just what Dirk might have mentioned, or things that might line up that Dave could potentially connect to his brother, and tries to tell his best friend the story.</p><p>"I met someone and uh. It wasn't a super... flattering start, but we still went out together and had a pretty good time. We mentioned a second date but uh. I didn't hear anything for a while. So I messaged and we tried to hook up instead, and." He shrugs, and tries to think of a way to phrase the next part that doesn't sound pathetic or clingy. "It just didn't end up very well and my ego took a pretty big hit. I'll get over it."</p><p> </p><p>Dave only nods along as John speaks, having turned at some point so his side leaned against the back of the couch, fully facing John. He notices this time how John's eyes flicker around the room, like he was conspiring to tell Dave a real big secret. He was such a dork sometimes.</p><p>"So, like. Are you trying to make up for a bruised ego and show them you're cool, or something? Because I'm hearing a lot of negatives about that whole thing and I can't imagine why you'd want to stick around someone that doesn't want to give you the time of day, bro." Dave nudges John's leg with his foot. "I might constantly roast your ass but I still care about you, and you can do a lot better than a fuckboy, man. Fuckgirl, person, whatever."</p><p> </p><p>There's something sort of hysterical about Dave calling his own brother a fuckboy, and John sputters out a small bout of surprised, uncomfortable laughter before he can rein it in. "Fuck..." He sucks in a breath and rubs his eye with the back of his hand, where the grease wasn't still lingering, glasses pushed up onto his forehead for a moment.</p><p>"I know... I know it shouldn't be a big deal. That's why I feel so fucking stupid. But god, Dave... I could have sworn... Ugh. I sound like a sap. Never mind. I just want to forget about it right now. I'm missing like a quarter of what I'm sure is <em>super important</em> plot." He smacks Dave's foot lightly and sighs, going back for his pizza.</p><p> </p><p>Dave visibly seems to relax when he's able to make John laugh, though he wasn't exactly sure what he said - he was normally a riot, he knew, but he didn't even try that time. Whatever. Dave still counted it as a win. He doesn't press John, making an attempt to lighten the mood with his next quip. He was sure they'd end up talking about it some more later.</p><p>"Whatever you say, dude. I ain't gonna nag you about it cause I'm not Rose, but fair warning, my bro is going through some similar shit, and I'm liable to abandon you if you turn out to be a smelly stoned hermit like him. I swear to fuck that guy packs a bowl every goddamn hour, and I'm officially demanding right now that you stay away from him before he sucks you into whatever depressive black hole he's in. I can't lose my best bro to the weed and doritos singularity, okay, so you gotta work this shit out and keep hanging out with me."</p><p> </p><p>John flinches and possibly is visibly distressed and guilty while Dave talks about his brother, though he at least does his best to keep it subtle. He stares, scowling, at the pizza box while he listens, not sure how to feel. "Damn... So that's what the smell is." Of course he already knew.</p><p>"Do you think maybe-" What would John say if he weren't involved in this? If he was just as oblivious about Dirk as he was before that party? "I mean, if it's that bad, do you think you should like. Step in maybe?" That was a normal thing to say, right? "Uh. Don't worry though. I'm. I'm good. I won't get that bad. I think I might actually be... on the upswing even." The pit in his stomach and the mass in his chest disagree, but he was kind of numb to those now.</p><p> </p><p>Dave gives him a slightly puzzled look at the question, finding it sort of weird, but he doesn't press on it. John was just a nice dude, so of course he wouldn't understand how annoyingly self-destructive his brother could be, no matter what Dave did to help.</p><p>"Uh huh. Sure you are, that's why you look like you just deepthroated a sea urchin." Dave remarks, but offers a shrug when it comes to John's kind-hearted suggestion. "I've tried to help my bro how I can, but he doesn't take super well to forced intervention, he's a massive control freak. I figured I'd just let him smoke himself out, and cheer him up when I can, y'know. I think it's got some shit to do with his ex-boyfriend double dumping him, and I know by now not to touch that fucking subject with a ten-foot pole."</p><p> </p><p>"Ugh. Nasty <em>and</em> painful. Your analogies are getting weirder, dude." John isn't sure how to process the rest of the information, face once again pinching down in an uncomfortable frown. "That sucks..." Double dumping, huh? That could mean a lot, but he really doesn't wanna chase it down the rabbit hole right now or potentially ever - he was <em>trying</em> not to be an obsessive creep.</p><p>"Hope he gets better. So you get better. I can tell you're worried from way over here. Don't worry though, I won't tell anyone else." Instead of eating like a normal person, John starts picking at the toppings of his second slice of pizza. "So what else is going on in your life lately? Sounds like you need some good news, having to be dealing with two sad sacks of hot garbage."</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks, man. I don't know what I would do if it got out that I actually give a shit about my bro. Antagonism is kind of the foundation of our entire relationship. What are you doing? Eat it right, you fucking savage." Dave turns back to face the coffee table, smacking John's hand away playfully from where he was desecrating a perfectly good slice of pizza.</p><p>Dave stretches out his legs on the floor, grabbing the pizza crust John had thrown back in the box to eat it himself. He suddenly seemed pretty interested in the movie he'd been ignoring so thoroughly all night. "Nothing. Added some tracks to my soundcloud, picked up some extra shifts at work, started dating someone new," He lists unaffectedly, but he wasn't his brother, so he was incapable of keeping the smile from growing on his face. "The usual shit. Really living the life out here, not getting fuckboy'd."</p><p> </p><p>John makes a mournful sound and tries to smack Dave's hand right back, but he sighs and does as he's told. Mainly because he's done lamenting about his own life and is ready to be distracted. He winces when Dave casually eats his leftovers. "Dude... no dip? Talk about a savage. Waste of a perfectly good breadstick, Strider."</p><p>He doesn't see anything strange with the interest in the movie, already slipping back into a more comfortable, less observant mindset. But the little smile on Dave's face makes him replay everything he said, and John smirks. "Aw, yeah? Damn. Nice. I'll definitely have to check out the soundcloud when I get home."</p><p> </p><p>Dave very simply flips John off at his breadstick observation - it was perfectly fine as it was, why would he want to combat the grease of pizza with more unnecessary grease from the marinara, when instead he could have a perfectly crisp breadstick to soak it up? He wouldn't expect John to understand, his methods were elite.</p><p>"Yeah do that." Dave only manages around three minutes of silence before what he actually wanted to say was springing forth. "Anyway, I'm glad you asked, his name is Karkat and I met him at the bookstore downtown where he works and he left his number on one of the cheap paper bookmarks they give out there. He's super hot and he loves romance novels for some fucking reason so I think he got the idea from one of them because he's, like, not actually smooth whatsoever in real life? You would like him I think, he's not as much of a massive dork as you, but he's definitely on the spectrum."</p><p> </p><p>John rolls his eyes and smiles, just staring at Dave while he waited. And of course, it wasn't in vain. Soon enough a classic Dave Ramble bubbled up out of his friend, and John's so thankful for the distraction, for the knowledge that Dave was happy - and luckier than he was - that he laughs again.</p><p>"Oh my god. Yeah, he definitely sounds like a dork alright." He tries to imagine some bookish nerd nervously jotting down their number to give to Dave. "Do you have anything planned yet? Have you like... <em>actually messaged him yet</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, oh my god dude you act like I'm some anxiety-ridden baby afraid to make the first move or something, which I am, but you don't have to fucking say it," Dave says, but the smile still didn't leave his face, even as John laughs at him. It was hard to get it off now that it was on.</p><p>"I texted him last night, we're going to a movie thing tomorrow. He's trying to convince me out of watching a romcom with him but it's like painfully fucking obvious that he wants to see it so I just bought the tickets in advance and I'll surprise him when we get there. He might flip his shit a little, he gets all flustered and angry when he's embarrassed, but it'll be worth it because I <em>know</em> he wants to see it, he's been talking about the fucking book to movie adaptation nonstop." Dave rambles affectionately, subconsciously thumbing over his phone where it sat in his pocket. He wonders if he'd texted him, but he already told him about his bro date, so probably not.</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, that fast huh?" There's this little prickle of jealousy that John immediately shoos away; just because he's hitting a weird kind of rough patch in his own romantic life doesn't mean he has to be any less thrilled when his best bro finds someone he's super into.</p><p>John wiggles closer, eyebrows bouncing and all-in-all just resembling his old self again as he leans on Dave's shoulder. "You got any pictures of him yet? I wanna see so I <em>don't</em> go and harass him at the bookstore where you've already told me where he works so it's too late, I'll find out anyway, you may as well show me."</p><p> </p><p>"I told you, I'm no nervous dame, dude." Dave recoils when John sidles up to him, but it was entirely for show, and he relaxes pretty quickly.</p><p>"Okay when you say things like that I can't tell if you're fucking with me or not because I know it's some shit you would actually pull," Dave was already taking his phone from his pocket anyway, unlocking it with his fingerprint and closing out his window of texts with Karkat in favor of pulling up his instagram, one of several social media of Karkat's that he'd privately been lurking around.</p><p>He finds the post he'd personally designated as his favorite, a picture of Karkat flipping off the camera at some sort of convention with his friends - a tall, pretty woman that he thinks is named Kanaya, and a lanky sort of dude that was tagged as Sollux. Karkat had a mop of curly hair just as wild as his attitude, and pretty brown eyes that Dave thought he could spend a lot of time getting lost in, as desperately gay as that sounds. But he was cute, and he gave Dave attention, so he couldn't be blamed for his infatuation.</p><p>He tips his phone towards John to show him the picture, pointing to the shortest of the three. "That's him. He's like the exact same height as me, if you can believe it."</p><p> </p><p>"I am <em>absolutely serious</em>. But you gave me the proper bribe so you're good for now." He, like any good friend, tries to read the texts before Dave swipes them away, but mostly out of a passing curiosity instead of a deep interest. "Oh damn, he doesn't look anything like I was imagining. He looks <em>exhausted</em>!"</p><p>John rolls toward him with another smug little grin. "He's pretty cute. And I don't believe it for a second, I think you're just fucking with me because I'm short." John pulls himself out of Dave's bubble with a grunt, crossing his legs one over the other. "I'm happy for you, Dave. You really like this guy huh." He hopes it works out.</p><p> </p><p>"He's not exhausted that's just what his face looks like, he's got like. Resting insomniac face instead of resting bitch face. Or, I guess he has both. Whatever it is, it's cute."</p><p>Dave looks at the picture for a moment or two longer, the little smile still lingering on his face, before he locks his phone and puts it back into his pocket. He was silent for a few seconds, shifting just slightly where he sat on the couch. It's not as if he has to second guess whether John's observation was true, because there was no doubt in his mind how he felt about Karkat. "...I do. Holy shit, I really do. It's like. This fuckin' immediate connection I had with him, like we'd been friends for years. Feels natural, I guess. <em>And</em> he's hot? I hit the goddamn jackpot, dude."</p><p> </p><p>His proud, pleased smile flickers, only for a moment, but John brings it back full force by sheer determination. He's not about to ruin Dave's enthusiasm because he was a dumbass who thought he might have been in a similar situation not too long ago. Fuck, it's getting harder to hold his face in this position. So he smacks Dave's shoulder with a laugh and leans against the arm of the futon.</p><p>"Make sure you tell him I'm a big jerk before we meet, so I can make a good impression by not being as bad as he thinks I am." Fuck, he wants to be happier but he can feel himself start to slip back into a sulk.</p><p>"So what's actually going on in this movie anyway? I've seen a cumulative like... five minutes of it and I have no idea."</p><p> </p><p>"Don't worry I already did, we were going to have our date tonight but I had to let him down easy to keep my promise of a bro date with you," Dave says, and it wasn't actually untrue, just a little embellished in the spirit of teasing John. Something about the smile on his friend's face seemed kind of forced, though. Probably thinking about whatever dumb fuckboy had stolen his heart.</p><p>Dave pulls his legs back up onto the couch, turning back to face John so he could stretch out and subsequently put his feet in John's lap. "How the fuck am I supposed to know, we had a feelings jam and you asked me about my dude, you think I've been listening to this shit? I think I read in the description there's some kinda parasite that makes you kill people, or something. Or maybe that was another one on the list, I dunno. We missed the critical fucking exposition part of the movie already so there's literally no chance this shit is going to start making sense. Just make up your own plot, man."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh shit, he probably <em>hates</em> me now. Way to oversell my assholeness, Dave. Damn." He clucks his tongue and shakes his head. "You should've gone on the date though. You only get one chance to impress a dude on a first date, but you're stuck with me for the rest of your life." John cuts off and exaggeratedly groans in disgust, slapping Dave's calves. "Nasty."</p><p>He doesn't push him away, though, resting his hand where he smacked him. Physical contact was nice.</p><p>"Ugh, god. Are you sure it had exposition in the first place?"</p><p> </p><p>"No way, man. I found a way to have both. Saturdays are for the boys, after all. Karkat gets it." Dave quips, but for some reason the comment spurs on a bit of anxiety. "Wait, do you think I actually should have gone tonight instead of tomorrow? Was that a bad call? I mean he seems fine with it but like there's a chance he could think I was being an asshole."</p><p>Dave forgets the movie easily once again, sitting up a little where he'd leaned against the arm of the couch while he briefly spirals over Karkat. "It probably didn't have exposition, am I being an asshole? I mean it wasn't like a point of contrition or anything but now that I'm thinking about it I should have just taken the first offer to not seem picky."</p><p> </p><p>"Holy shit man I thought you were like putting it off a week or something - he probably won't care to have it pushed a single day." John recoils from the mistake he's made, hoping to rectify this before Dave has a full-on anxiety attack over his date with this guy he likes so much. "Dave! I'm pretty sure he's not thinking about it anywhere near this much. He probably likes that you're dedicated to your friends and family anyway right? It's a good quality for a partner to have."</p><p>The hand on Dave's leg rubs up in down in a comforting motion. "Seriously, I bet he's fine with it and you're gonna have an awesome time tomorrow."</p><p> </p><p>"...Yeah. Yeah, fuck, you're probably right." Dave says, shifting awkwardly where he sat, because once he had his reassurance, he realized that was probably a stupid thing to be freaking out about. But he really liked this guy, and it was kind of terrifying to think that he'd be going into there with a default penalty right off the bat. If Karkat was nearly as excited as he was, though, he wouldn't have anything to worry about.</p><p>Dave sighs, shifting his leg to kick John's hand lightly. "Sorry for getting all neurotic on you. I really don't want to mess this whole thing up."</p><p> </p><p>"It's cool; I'm glad you found someone you're into so much." John pats his shin one final time before moving his hands and finally staring up at the smart tv. There's no way in hell he's gonna be able to follow any type of plot now and he's sure it's shitty anyway, but he kind of wanted to forget about relationships for a while, so he hopes pretending to be interested in a shitty movie would help.</p><p>"How many of these do you have lined up?"</p><p> </p><p>Dave seemed to relax at that, a light smile returning to his face. He glanced briefly down the hall as he heard his brother cough from his room, still smoking apparently, and grabs the remote again.</p><p>He pulls up his list on Netflix, flicking through a couple of options before he got back to his regular recommendations. "Five. They get worse as they go on, jesus. I didn't plan it that way, I meant it when I said I struck a vein of gold, if gold in this analogy is fucking abysmal horror flicks from the early 2000s. Are you in this for the long haul? You can sleep over, if you want."</p><p> </p><p>He also kind of wants to forget about Dirk, but those things went hand-in-hand in John's mind anyway. There's a moment where he's sidetracked by the thought of being hand-in-hand because he's a fucking loser, and John sighs at himself, frowning when he also hears the cough.</p><p>"Oh damn." John grins, at first delighted at the idea of a shitty movie marathon, but. His face falls a little. "I dunno. You probably wanna be well rested for the big date, right? I sure as hell won't make it easy being the hooligan that I am. We can just watch two more maybe. What do you think?"</p><p> </p><p>"What, no. I'll be fine, dude. I finally got you to come to my place after for-fucking-ever, I'm not kicking you out just because I have a thing to do tomorrow." Dave was incredibly sincere, sounding almost offended that John would want to leave. What could he say, he missed him.</p><p>"I'm not holding you hostage, but I'm reminding you that <em>saturdays are for the boys,</em> and you're my main... boy, I guess. It sounded better in my head." He shrugs. "Let's just hang out. We don't have to talk about shit, but I also have an ulterior motive to cheer you up, if you're willing to accept my lovin'."</p><p> </p><p>"You're not kicking me out though, I'm offering. First dates are like. They take <em>all day</em> to get ready for, you know? Because everyone's a tryhard on the first date." His excuse for not wanting to stay very long has already fallen flat, and John doesn't know what else to do to try and ... <em>not</em> spend very long here without worrying, insulting, or clueing Dave in.</p><p>He considers joking about Dave's brother somehow, something stupid and overexaggerated like 'dude but what if you're asleep and he comes out here and offers me <em>weed</em>? You know I'm bad with peer pressure!" But it isn't even an excuse and he'd be bringing Dirk up to pretend to joke about him without any point to it.</p><p>"I'll... be on the futon?" He asks, like it isn't the dumbest question he's asked all night.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Yes,</em> you fuckin' dweeb. We could build a pillow fort in my room but not this time, because I'm definitely not going to be able to sleep and I won't subject you to me vibrating out of bed by 7 am." Dave confesses, because John was most definitely right. Dave already had his outfit picked out for tomorrow.</p><p>He kicks John's thigh, a little more roughly than his previous attempts, but there was still no real force behind it. "You're sleeping over, and we're having some good old fashioned bro bonding time. Quit worrying."</p><p> </p><p>He knows he could argue, could flat out say he didn't want to, and Dave would let him go. Because he's such a great fucking friend. Which meant that John <em>couldn't do it to him</em>. The whole reason he came over was because he missed Dave, and he has a pretty distinct feeling that Dave missed him too. So leaving would probably hurt, and he couldn't do that over something as dumb as boy troubles.</p><p>If Dirk came out while he was over, he'd just. Ignore him. Pretend to be asleep. Whatever. It'd be fine, it was <em>one</em> night.</p><p>"<em>Fine,</em> if you're gonna twist my arm about it." It's said with as much affection as he can layer into the words. "Just make sure you wake me up before you start tearing the apartment to pieces from your nerves, okay?"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Yes</em>. I knew you loved me." Dave grins, sitting up where he was sprawled back over the couch in order to wrap his arms around John in a hug. He only lingers for a moment, before he's pulling away completely, and punctuating it with an instinctual no homo punch to his arm.</p><p>"Let's just skip the ending and start the next one." Dave starts the next movie without waiting for John's answer, and makes it a point to actually pay attention this time, rather than forcing John to talk about feelings with him. He had a feeling that this would work better at cheering him up than anything he could have said, regardless.</p><p> </p><p>"Gross." But John doesn't have the energy to playfully push him away, and he takes the punch to the arm with a quiet laugh. "Yeah, that's probably for the best. Though if this is the highest-rated of the bunch, we've got our work cut out for us."</p><p>The silence is appreciated on a surface level - he thinks Dave reads people better than his friend believes he can - but deep down John is torn between dread and annoyance that he's feeling dread in the first place. He can feel it growing in the pit of his stomach and it's so fucking stupid - he's been face to face with this guy twice, and an added half if you count the drunken party. Fuck, he was starting to sound like a broken record in his own damn head. He focuses too intently on the movies, openly mocking them as they go on.</p><p> </p><p>Dave takes up the role of defending the movies - the worse the trope the better, in his opinion. These movies were the kind that had no inherent value as cinema but incredible <em>entertainment</em> value, which Dave reminded John distinguished his terrible movie taste from other bad movies. Little Monsters was just shit, and not even the fun kind, and that was a fact. He really missed bantering with John like this.</p><p>After the first few movies and a few more slices of pizza, Dave is starting to feel the weight of his eyelids a lot more intensely than before, and finds himself with his phone in his hands, curled up on his side of the couch and pretending he wasn't telling Karkat goodnight because he was definitely going to pass out soon despite what he'd said before. He could try to tough it through one more though.</p><p>"Next one?" Dave asks, as he stifles a yawn.</p><p> </p><p>John, with his still-growing internal dilemma, is of course wide awake, and he catches that yawn and wonders if it's his chance. "Nah, man, you're almost unconscious. You should get to sleep." It's late, but not <em>too</em> late that it'd be weird and risky to drive home. Especially with how roused he is.</p><p>"Come on, don't make me carry you to bed."</p><p> </p><p>Dave didn't have it in him to argue, so instead he asks John a question, not moving from his curled position on his side, phone still clutched loosely in his hands. His eyes looked almost closed, from the angle that was visible to John in the gap between his shades and his face.</p><p>"How are you feelin'? Cheered up at all?"</p><p> </p><p>His chest aches at Dave's questions, and for the first time in a little while it's a good ache. "... Yeah, dude. Thank you. Sorry for being a weird asshole. I didn't <em>want</em> to avoid anyone but you know. Sometimes you just get in a mood." He knows if he leaves before morning now, the same issue of potentially hurting Dave would nag at him. Fuck.</p><p>He gently wiggles Dave's ankle. "Get some sleep so your resting insomniac faced boyfriend is the only one that looks exhausted tomorrow."</p><p> </p><p>Dave nods in understanding, just waving John's apology away. It wasn't one he needed to hear, he was always going to be here for him, no matter how long he avoided him, or took time to himself. He should tell him that more. "No worries, dude. I get it."</p><p>Dave sits up and smiles softly at the comment about Karkat, rubbing at tired eyes under his shades with his free hand. "And he's not my boyfriend. Not yet, anyway."</p><p>Dave stretches and gets up to his feet, closing the mostly empty pizza box and pocketing his phone again. "What are you gonna do? You don't look tired, I'd feel shitty just abandoning you to go sleep."</p><p> </p><p>John spots that little smile and returns it, genuinely happy for his friend despite his own problems. And he uses the word 'problem' lightly. Heartache was an inconvenience at most that he's blowing way out of proportion. "Don't worry about it. I can pass out as soon as there's some darkness and quiet."</p><p>He's kind of desperate to get to sleep as soon as possible if he has to stay anyway. "Hurry and take as much of the pizza as you want, because I'll probably finish it overnight and just leave you the crusts, you dry-crust eating weirdo."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't see a con in that situation. You'd be leaving me breakfast." Dave offers John a fistbump in parting, feeling a bit better now that he had confirmation that John was even slightly cheered up.</p><p>"Goodnight, dude. Let me know if you need anything. A bedtime story, maybe. I'll come spray under the futon for monsters if you want." Dave's smile shifts briefly to a smirk, before fading right back. "Thanks for coming over tonight, man. It was fun."</p><p> </p><p>His eyes roll, and John scoffs dutifully. "Thanks, <em>mom</em>." He shoves his shoes under the futon, stretching out as soon as his friend stands, hoping to get most of the restless shifting out of the way as soon as possible.</p><p>"Thanks for threatening to replace me with the pizza delivery guy. It was a good motivator to get me over here. I'll see you in the morning."</p><p> </p><p>"Anytime, man. I'm still upset about missing out on my large sausage pizza, but I'll give it a pass this time. Just for you." Dave gives John one last parting smile before he's padding down the dark hallway for his bedroom, and it's immediately obvious in the way that his phone lights up his face that he's texting again before he even shuts the door to his room.</p><p> </p><p>John really laughs at that, hating and loving how his own jokes kept getting used against him like this. With his head curled into his elbow, John's smile lingers after the laugh fades, rolling his eyes a bit more fondly when Dave's already messing on his phone. Fuck, he hopes this Karkat guy makes him happy.</p><p>He fills his lungs after a moment, snuggling down into the slightly flat cushion of the futon and pulling his glasses off. He slips them under the seat between his shoes and closes his eyes, trying to overcome that typical 'I'm not sleeping in the usual place' whimsical sensation so he can get some sleep and make time pass more quickly.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't long after Dirk heard Dave's door close that he was slinking out of his bedroom into the hallway, making a beeline across for the bathroom first and foremost. He'd been waiting patiently for... <em>Dave's guest</em> to leave before coming out of his room, having long since finished his pizza and smoked a joint down to a roach.</p><p>The pot did a good enough job helping with his anxiety, but it was nothing compared to the relief he felt when Dave's night with John finally came to an end. It wasn't that Dirk didn't want Dave to have his friend over, by any means. But he was incapable of relaxing, he quickly found out, with the knowledge that John fucking Egbert was just a room away. It made something in stomach twist, and he still wasn't ready to think about it all yet.</p><p>Once he was finished up in the bathroom, Dirk made his way down the hallway to pass through the darkened living room and grab a bottle of water from the kitchen to curb his terrible dehydration.</p><p> </p><p>It's not long at all when he hears the door open again, but this time it isn't Dave's room. John sucks in a quiet breath and clamps his eyes closed once again; this was the exact scenario he wanted to avoid, damn it! John can feel the blood rushing to his face, and he's not sure why, but he does his best to make as little sound as possible. The rank weed scent spread throughout the room, renewed now that the source was up and walking around, and John tries to blink away the wetness that floods his eyes from the strength of it.</p><p>He hopes maybe Dirk would be too blasted to even notice him, but he's also afraid that when Dirk walks back to his room he'd end up spotting him somehow, and John <em>really</em> doesn't want to look at him. So he waits until it sounds like the older man is far enough away before doing his best to quietly turn onto his other side, burying his face into the back of the futon that he didn't even bother to flatten out.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk spends longer in the kitchen than he probably needs to due to completely zoning out and rubbing at his eye with the heel of his palm for at least two minutes, just because it felt good, for some visceral reason. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was stoned out of his mind.</p><p>He forgets the water in his hand briefly before downing the whole bottle and tossing it in the trash without even taking a breath, digging around for more snacks in the cabinet. He was just starting back down the hallway, tripping over a piece of his stupid scrap from a project and cursing under his breath, when he hears a shuffling sound that makes him pause where he stood.</p><p>That. Didn't come from Dave's room.</p><p>Dirk looks back over his shoulder, his eyes adjusting better to the dark now, and focusing on the futon. It was still too dark to see much, but. Unless this weed was laced and this was a bad high, he could have fucking sworn he saw the curve of shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>There's more rustling from the kitchen area, and John just wishes he'd... go back to his room or something already. Or at least wishes that he'd stop being so hyper-aware of him. Being asleep would be the ideal, though.</p><p>John stares at one of the little circles in the fabric where the two sheets were stitched together, the batting making it dimple inward, and shoves an uncomfortable finger into it for no reason other than to have some sort of tactile sensation to focus on. He wishes he hadn't taken off his glasses yet, just in case something happens and he won't be able to <em>see</em>.</p><p>It's been dead silent since he rolled over, and he wonders if maybe he just missed Dirk walk out. Without rolling over, John snakes his arm down and around the bottom of the futon until he can slowly, quietly pull his glasses back up and set them back on his nose. He wasn't about to be in a dark room <em>and</em> nearsighted.</p><p>... Fuck, this was so stupid. Why was he making this into such a big deal anyway? It didn't matter. Dirk was the one who ran away. He scowls at the fabric swallowing his finger, then takes a deep calming breath, ironically forcing the tension from his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't jump, but he feels a bolt of startled electricity surge up his spine when he sees the silhouette move, and nearly drops his bag of chips. Fuck, <em>fuck,</em> he was still here. Why was he still here? Dave went to bed, he was supposed to be <em>gone.</em> Had he seen him? Was he looking at him right now? Dirk couldn't tell, and it was making the heavy sensation in his stomach curl and twist with anxiety. So much for self-medicating with pot.</p><p>Dirk had the immediate urge to flee, and he almost did, but his stupid fucking mouth had less of a leash on it thanks to just how high he was. His voice was raspy from a lack of use and his recent habit of smoking, and he regrets the single word as soon as it leaves his lips.</p><p>"John?"</p><p> </p><p>There's still no sound, and John is just absolutely determined now to believe everything's cool. He's sleeping over at his best friend's apartment, which he has done before many times, and who cares if his friend's brother was potentially in the adjacent area still?</p><p>He's far too wide awake now to actually have any hope of falling asleep, but even as alert as he believes he is, he still jumps violently when he hears his voice. John swallows, pretends for a few seconds that he didn't hear him, then rolls his eyes at himself for being an idiot.</p><p>He pushes himself up to a sitting position, glad he chose to get his glasses, and turns to look at Dirk. And... once his eyes adjust, holy fuck. Dirk looks.... like <em>shit</em>. John is so surprised that Dirk is anything but his normal immaculate self that he can't say anything for a while. He remembers all the times Dirk had to fix himself up, the way he said it wasn't for John's sake, and his belly does a guilty, nervous little flop. ...No way that was because of him. Absolutely not.</p><p>"... Dave asked me to sleep over."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk sees the way John practically flinches at the sound of his voice, and feels his body growing more tense by the second as John sits up on the futon, spiking intensely when he turns his head to look at him. He meets his eyes directly, and-</p><p><em>Fuck.</em> God, Dirk suddenly wishes it was possible for him to sink into the ground. He always liked to think he was more of a fighter than a flighter, but there was nothing his body wanted to do more than turn on his heel and dart for his bedroom. To keep hiding from all of this.</p><p>
  <em>Was John still angry at him? Did he hate him? Would he even accept Dirk's apology, if he had the balls to give it in the first place?</em>
</p><p>"Oh. Cool."</p><p>It's all Dirk says, and it takes everything in him not to fidget, standing statue still as he just wrenches his eyes from John's and stares at the floor.</p><p> </p><p>Everything John had been feeling the past few weeks, everything he'd been afraid of or upset by is temporarily blanketed by concern. He feels stupid for... the umpteenth time today, because it's only gonna fuck him over in the long run, but there was clearly something <em>wrong</em> with Dirk. Though it could also just be how Dirk is when he's high. Dave said he'd been smoking a lot.</p><p>"Yeah." John watches him look away, and the guilt from earlier comes back, thinking maybe this <em>is</em> his fault, if Dirk can't look at him. Or it could just be the embarrassment at being seen like this.</p><p>"Are you okay?" It's not what he wants to ask; he doesn't want to ask anything, he <em>wants</em> to say goodnight, that he'll leave in the morning, but John can't stop himself from worrying about him.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk could <em>feel</em> John's eyes on him, and it made him feel a little sick. He knew John had to be judging him for letting himself go, even if the depressive rut was exactly what Dirk deserved. He didn't think he could handle seeing whatever expression was on John's face right now, so he didn't look.</p><p>He scanned his eyes over the laminate wood flooring, counting each individual plank in the back of his mind until he heard John speak again. The question caught him by surprise, enough that his eyes flicked up to John's for just a split second.</p><p>"Why are you asking me that." Dirk states quietly, even though it's meant to be a question. He didn't deserve John's concern. Why was he always so fucking <em>nice</em> to him?</p><p> </p><p>John's teeth clack together as his jaw snaps shut, and he purses his lips. Okay, so they were still gonna be like this, then. Fine. He scoffs quietly, regretting that he even tried if Dirk was going to keep acting this way. Jesus. Weeks of frustration bubble up, frustration he hadn't even known he'd been feeling because he wasn't ... letting himself feel much of anything but despondence.</p><p>All John did was try to give him what he wanted, <em>John</em> got shat on for it, and now Dirk was acting like some fucking kicked dog when John extends a tentative olive branch.</p><p>"Because you look like <em>shit</em>, dude. Jesus. Forget it." He plucks the glasses off, this time tossing them over to clatter beside the pizza box. John rubs his face, exhausted more emotionally than anything else. "I'm not trying to apologize for this, I'm asking if you're <em>okay</em> because you don't look like you're okay." He remembers too late that Dave's in the other room, probably still awake and texting Karkat, so he tries to remember to keep his voice down even though he doesn't actually expect a response. Dirk'd probably just run away again.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't move. He doesn't flinch when John lashes out - partly because his reaction time is shit thanks to his high, and mostly because he knew that he deserved it. Yes, Dirk was very much <em>not</em> okay, but that was his burden to bear, not John's.</p><p>If anything, John shouldn't even be giving him the time of day right now, and Dirk had no intention of talking about exactly how shitty he felt, especially not to him. He didn't want his pity. He didn't want to... to unintentionally manipulate John into feeling fucking <em>bad</em> for him, when he should be angry. When he should be <em>moving on</em>.</p><p>Dirk didn't think he was capable of not being angry at <em>himself.</em> Not any time soon, anyway. He'd convinced himself it would be better for both of them if Dirk just kept his distance, and let John forget about him. Hate him, until he did. What he didn't expect was how easy it would be to say what he'd been thinking for the past two weeks now that he was unexpectedly face-to-face with John. Even though he never expected forgiveness - especially not with his avoidant attitude - there was something critical he'd neglected to say. Something John deserved to hear, now that he was right here, and there was no way for Dirk to hide anymore.</p><p>Dirk's voice is just as flat as always, giving nothing away, but there was no hiding the deep furrow in his brow.</p><p>"It doesn't matter. I-" <em>I hurt you. I hurt you, and I hate myself for it.</em> "...I fucked up."</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p> </p><p>John breathes a mean little laugh, snorts out, "For which part?" before sighing. "No, that was a joke. Never mind." Now that his glasses were gone and Dirk was just an off-color blob in the dark room, John didn't try looking at him anymore. He clasps his hands together with his elbows on his knees and stares at the shape of the pizza box he can a little more clearly make out. The apology still felt good, even with him telling himself he didn't care.</p><p>"... I think it matters though." He tries to think of something scathing to say to offset the comment - something about how Dirk looks, or about how John thinks it's stupid he let something apparently meaningless hit him so hard. But he just leaves the comment out in the open instead.</p><p>It sure would be nice to get past this whole mess. Especially for his friend. John tilts his head, angling his ear toward Dave's door to see if he could hear him moving around in his room. It's kind of a joke though because he knows he wouldn't hear anything if Dave didn't want him to so it was impossible to know if he overheard John's minor outburst a moment ago. "I'm leaving in the morning, you can go back to slinking around after that. I just didn't want to make Dave worry, you know?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels as if he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. He didn't really know how to address the sentiment that John thought his feelings mattered, so he didn't make any attempt to. Despite that, though, his apology was met with such dismissal. Even though Dirk wasn't expecting much, it still stung. He didn't know what to make of all of this.</p><p>He should have just left for his room already. Dirk only offers a single nod in response, tilting his head to look over his shoulder, towards the end of the hall where he and Dave's rooms were parallel.</p><p>"...Yeah. He missed you."</p><p> </p><p>He might have felt more about it if John could be sure that Dirk was sorry because he felt bad for John or because he was embarrassed that it happened. And now he feels guilty again for Dave getting caught in the crossfire. Or like. Anticrossfire. Whatever. Thanks, Dirk.</p><p>John sighs and scratches his fingers over his scalp. "I missed him, too." He's not tired anymore, not with all the weird adrenaline, so John snags a room temperature pizza slice, soggy from the grease, and focuses his blurry sight solely on it while he eats.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels an unfamiliar stirring sensation from somewhere within him, turning back to glance at John, just briefly. He reaches a hand up to rub at the back of his neck as an uncomfortable silence settles over the two of them again.</p><p>He said what he needed to say. Dirk wasn't naive enough to think that they could just move on from this shit so easily. So he didn't push.</p><p>"I'll... leave you to it, then?" This time, Dirk means for it to come out as a statement, but the question mark slips itself into his cadence, the opposite as before.</p><p> </p><p>That silence feels so... <em>heavy</em>, and John absolutely hates it. But it's not what he'd been afraid of, when he was hesitant to come over. The worst-case scenario in his mind had been... honestly the thought that Dirk would see him and pretend he didn't exist at all, somehow, now that he's thinking about it. Which should have been confusing but John knows exactly why that's the case and that doesn't make it much better.</p><p>He finishes inhaling the pizza, tucking the crust under the flap of the lid and then reorienting his discarded glasses so they weren't lens-down.</p><p>Dirk's... 'question' makes him look up, squinting, trying to make out any detail of Dirk's face to have an idea of his expression, but of course all he sees is a mass. "... <em>Will</em> you?" Was he asking... permission for something, or was it just a weird quirk of his larynx twisting the tone? "We've already looked at each other, man. There's nothing else that can happen now, so you don't have to act like some weird prisoner in your room if you've gotta piss or something."</p><p> </p><p>"No, I mean, I just - I'm not going to -" Dirk stutters, and he'd never be high enough not to inwardly scold himself for ever losing his composure. He cuts himself off sharply, in order to properly try and compose a real fucking sentence and stop looking like a bumbling dumbass in front of John.</p><p>It doesn't work, not when he didn't even know what he was trying to say in the first place. He feels his face warm, and just abandons his efforts. "...Nevermind, just. Goodnight."</p><p>Dirk turns for the kitchen instead of the hallway, tossing the bag of chips back onto the counter. He'd lost his appetite.</p><p> </p><p>John winces when his... hamfisted attempt to brush things down to an attempt at a comfortable level of casual backfires. As much as he loved when Dirk got flustered around him before, this time it's just awkward and makes John want to squirm. "Okay. Goodnight."</p><p>Once again he wipes grease off on his pantleg, then slowly turns to lie on his back along the futon. The sound of something landing softly in the kitchen makes him feel guilty, but he doesn't try to stop Dirk from doing whatever he'd wanted to before he noticed John. He focuses very intently on the sensation of his fingers interlocked against his belly, eyes on the ceiling but unseeing as the rest of his senses are tuned to Dirk.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels like he could have said something. <em>Should</em> have said something. But, John probably wanted to be alone, and Dirk wasn't about to push. What would he even say? John didn't want his apology, so it was much less likely that he wanted his company.</p><p>He felt ridiculous that there was a small bead of hope welling up within him before he dismissed himself.</p><p>He turns back for the hallway and his room, only sparing John one more glance before he was padding back down to his bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him. He slumps against the door, and only now notices just how fast his heart had been racing in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>As soon as Dirk's door closes, John tries to relax. He figures, 'alright, that's over. I should be able to sleep now and most likely won't see him in the morning. so there's no reason to keep <em>tossing and turning like what's happening right now.</em>' John even rolls onto his stomach, buries his face for .5 seconds before he considers the amount of ass that's been here before, and immediately shoves himself back into a sitting position.</p><p>He hasn't checked his phone, but it feels like it's been about twenty minutes after Dirk went to his room, and John still can't stop thinking about it. He eats another slice, leaving the final one for Dave just in case. After tucking in the flaps, slipping on his glasses, and taking the box to the fridge, John stares down the apartment toward their bedrooms.</p><p>Well, they'd already been uncomfortable once tonight, and John never got his answer. He heads for Dirk's room, then spends twenty seconds with his knuckles hovering in front of the door as he considers the force to use to knock so that Dirk would hear it but Dave wouldn't. His middle finger pokes up, and John finally raps lightly with the single knuckle, then stuffs his hands in his pockets and waits.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk takes a few minutes to calm his racing heart, eventually taking a deep breath to move past the stupid surge of adrenaline he'd gotten just from <em>talking</em> to John. He pushes off the door and briefly considers rolling another joint, but that would be way too soon, and he ends up taking a seat at the desk beside his workbench instead, deciding to just resume one of his coding projects. It was what he always knew to do, when he needed to get out of his head.</p><p>And out of his head he got. So much so that he doesn't notice the sound of footsteps approaching his door nearly twenty minutes later. The way he jolts at the knock would have been more appropriate if his door were kicked down. His eyes snap across the room, going silent as he attempts to listen for...anything else, really.</p><p>His heart was picking up speed in his chest once again - <em>god damn it</em> - and it takes him a good thirty seconds too long to rise from his desk chair. He tells himself it could have been Dave. Maybe he'd heard John's voice when he'd raised it slightly at him, and was coming to ask what was up.</p><p>It... wasn't likely, and sounded objectively worse than John knocking on his door, for some reason that Dirk had no hope of understanding. He pulls open his door, and when he sees John, his stomach does a little flip despite the fact that, well, of course it was him.</p><p>He just stands there for a second, haloed slightly by the only light in his room, which was the screen of his desktop.</p><p>"...Yeah?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't answer for a little bit, and John questions whether he should knock again. Probably not - if Dirk didn't hear him, it was probably some sort of divine saving grace. He's half a second from turning and heading back to the futon when he picks up the sounds of movement, so John curls his hands into fists, using the bite of his nails against his palm to ground himself for another social disaster.</p><p>His teeth scrape back and forth over his bitten lower lip, tongue trapping it against his bottom jaw as he stares at the faint shadow of someone moving from the dim light shining under the door.</p><p>Dirk doesn't seem surprised or upset to see him, but he's pretty good at the whole blank look thing, so John doesn't get too hopeful that maybe Dirk was... Nah, no. He lifts a hand from his pocket, scratches his jaw, and can't stop his eyes from flitting around the inside of a room he's never seen before, before forcing himself to focus on Dirk.</p><p>"Are you, actually okay though?" The words come out haltingly; they barely want to come out at all.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk just stares at him, and something in his indifferent expression seems to crack, for just a split second. His chest swirled with warmth at the question, making him avert his eyes to the wall behind John, then down, and back up. It was like his body was instinctively looking for a way away from the sensation, because John <em>did</em> still care - for some indiscernible reason, Dirk sure as fuck didn't deserve him coming to his room and checking on him - and Dirk didn't know how to handle that.</p><p><em>Isn't it obvious? You said it yourself, I look like shit,</em> Dirk wants to joke and deflect, but it doesn't exactly seem like they were on that level of comfort with each other right now. He answers him honestly.</p><p>"No."</p><p> </p><p>John flinches, two letters feeling like a punch to the gut even though the answer was pretty clear already. He'd just expected Dirk not to be honest, to brush it off or change the subject. And now John was dealing with the fact that he had no idea what to do next. Asking what was wrong was stupid. Asking if it was because of John was <em>beyond stupid</em>. Apologizing would come across as insincere, especially after he pointed out he wasn't going to.</p><p>John nods, licks his lips, and stares down at the floor. He has <em>no fucking idea</em> what to say.</p><p>He considers something lighthearted, but while that might have been his go-to in the past, or with most people, it didn't feel right in this particular situation. So he asks another question instead. "Do you want anything?" His voice cracks in the middle of it, and John purses his lips, embarrassed but not about to back down or even acknowledge it by clearing his throat.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk sees John flinch at his answer, and the knot in his stomach wrings tight. It wasn't as if he didn't know already. But it doesn't stop Dirk from feeling the anticipation grow as he waits for... something. John to speak up, or maybe just turn and leave, now that he got his answer.</p><p>He holds John's gaze until he drops his eyes to the floor, and Dirk takes the opportunity to follow suit. He stares at the light switch next to his door, with the stickers on it, just for something else to affix his eyes to. He wasn't expecting what John asks him next. His brows knit just slightly.</p><p>"Do I... want anything?" Dirk parrots back at him, a hint of confusion laced into his near whisper.</p><p> </p><p>Once again the option to joke or tease dances over his tongue, but John didn't want to make the situation feel anything less than it was. He still sighs though, and shakes his head.</p><p>"Yeah. Can I like. Get you anything, or do anything?" His tone isn't as light as he'd like, but it's still soft, so he takes it as a win.</p><p> </p><p>"No. I mean, fuck, I don't know," Dirk murmurs, shifting his weight where he stood, once again breaking his code of conduct when it came to not fidgeting. He breathes a sigh through his nose. What was he supposed to say to that? He didn't want to ask anything of John.</p><p>"Why are you..." <em>Why are you asking me that? Why do you still care about how I'm doing?</em> He almost ends up asking him the same question that had made John snap at him in the first place, less than half an hour ago. The one that he feels as if he already knows the answer to, but he doesn't feel comfortable believing. He changes course. "...I'll be fine. Don't worry about it."</p><p> </p><p>His eyes are back on Dirk, watching him react. It probably makes him uncomfortable to be seen being so unsure but John really doesn't care. He <em>does</em> care when it sounds like Dirk's about to ask another stupid question, and his fingers curl into his palms again, but the other man swaps out for a brush off.</p><p>John scowls, meets his eyes, and takes a step back. "... Whatever, man. Okay. I get it." He turns on his heel to the living room, looks at the floor, then back at Dirk. "See you, I guess."</p><p> </p><p>"John-" The name spills from him without his permission, and he doesn't know what he'd planned to say after it, if anything at all. But he knew that he fucking hated the way John looked at him after his weak attempt at reassurance. Why was he such an expert at fucking up social interactions?</p><p>Dirk had started to take a step after him, but caught himself in place before he could. His mouth opened, "I-" ...then pursed into a frown.</p><p> </p><p>He never moved any further from the door, frozen in place as soon as he heard his name. There's no point in saying anything; he's already said everything he could, so John waits for Dirk to work out whatever reason he's stopped him. It doesn't seem to go anywhere, but it definitely looks like he wants to say <em>something</em>. His heart pounds against his ribcage, waiting for anything - good <em>or</em> bad - but his shoulders slump when nothing else comes.</p><p>John waits for a bit more, then glances out toward the futon. He doesn't think Dirk would try to stop him again, and he's really fucking tired of the two of them tugging back and forth at nothing, but he at least wants some sort of closure if they're just not going to try again.</p><p>"If you wanna say something, say it. It's just us here."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk swallows thickly.</p><p>"I..." Dirk breathes a sigh through his nose, as he forces himself to nut up and fucking <em>say something.</em> Even if he couldn't help but punish himself for his fuck up by avoiding John for the foreseeable future, John was here in front of him right now, against all odds. If he could do something to help him move past the hurt Dirk had stupidly caused him, then he would. He owed him that much.</p><p>"...I meant it, when I said that I was sorry. For everything. You deserve better."</p><p> </p><p>The doubt that it had been a matter of pride for Dirk slips away entirely; the sincerity in his apology was unshakable. "Oh." John doesn't really know what to do with it. He slowly turns back toward Dirk, but doesn't move any closer. "I mean. It happens sometimes, man. You, uh. You outlined what you wanted and I was the one getting pushy. And like. Yeah, the whole fucking... Name thing sucked. But whatever."</p><p>He swallows, inhales, and tries for jokey. "We can just call us even now, for the party."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk only nods. It was difficult for him to admit, but part of him always knew that John felt more for him than just lust. He'd made it sort of obvious, at first, even. But it was Dirk's own denial that led him to believe the date schtick could be a one-time thing, and he could still somehow weasel his way into FWB territory with John.</p><p>It made him feel guilty enough after he'd slipped Jake's name, but his emotional and mental spiral didn't really take hold until he realized the avoidant dance he'd been pulling with John's feelings was like looking at his former relationship with Jake in a mirror. And maybe he was being dramatic. He hadn't known John for very long at all, and what Jake had put him through was a little more... severe (<em>heartbreaking</em>), for lack of a better word.</p><p>But what a way to realize you're a piece of shit.</p><p>He could have told John this. Any of it.</p><p>"Yeah. I guess so."</p><p> </p><p>The joke doesn't land, and John feels his little ember of hope dim again because Dirk's cut off even more. "... Okay. I'm gonna get some sleep. You can, uh. Text me if you want to talk some more." A hug would have sent the wrong signal, no matter how badly Dirk looked like he needed one. Which was fine because he probably didn't want one either; he didn't seem like the kind of guy to enjoy them.</p><p>"Thanks. For the apology. And I mean... I <em>am</em> sorry for shoehorning you into something stupid in the first place."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watches him, and the offer to text made his stomach do the flip thing again. Dirk's predicted worst-case scenario was falling flat. John didn't seem to have any intention to hate him and pretend he didn't exist, like Dirk had assumed he would from now on. Dirk hadn't pictured their barely-there relationship continuing, after he'd ghosted him (<em>twice</em>) and made a habit of fucking things up. It was uncertain, and shaky, and Dirk still felt like he was waiting for John to remember he wasn't worth his time.</p><p>A familiar, barely-there smile tugs at Dirk's lips, despite the tired look in his eyes.</p><p>"...It wasn't stupid."</p><p> </p><p>That ghost of a smile is all John needs to pick himself back up, and- christ, it was like the first half of their date all over again; a wild coaster of ups and downs and John not even able to get comfortable with wherever it lands before he's yanked in the other direction. This whole night had been full of impulses that have had a pretty even success/fail rate, and he just had a fail so maybe he'd get lucky with his next attempt.</p><p>He's not dumb enough to hug Dirk, in case that's too assertive or forward, but John leans closer to him and holds his wrist, fingers curled around the back of Dirk's hand and almost into his palm. He squeezes, mouth curving into a hesitant smile. "It kind of was, but I still had fun for most of it."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's brows quirk up in surprise, his body tensing, as he'd sort of expected John to just step back and leave for the futon. Then John returned the smile, and Dirk's flipping stomach felt like it pushed his heart into his throat. He quickly corrected himself, rather than just standing there slack-jawed, and nodded as John spoke.</p><p>"Yeah. Me too." Dirk had told him as much before, but it seemed to carry more weight when he said it this time.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't yank his hand away, and he doesn't look uncomfortable - just surprised - and John takes that win and tucks it with all the others. It still felt a little too balanced with the losses for him to think anything might come from this, but neutral felt leagues better than negative.</p><p>John's smile tugs up just a little more, and he swipes his thumb over the back of Dirk's wrist before letting him go. "Good." He finally clears his throat, turning away to walk back to the futon before the momentum peters out. When he curls up onto his side, he thinks he might be able to fall asleep finally.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't say anything else, just closing his door behind him, a mirror of how he'd entered the room before as he leans back against it. He was still feeling the little electric thrill that came with being touched by John, even so innocently.</p><p>What did that mean? He hadn't hugged Dirk, which was probably for the best, because he was rank with the scent of weed and metal - but had there been a reason for that? Maybe John wasn't ready to hug him. Was John <em>going</em> to be able to hug him in the future? Dirk had pretty carefully predicted exactly how everything was going to go from now on, and reconciliation was never in the picture.</p><p>Maybe, if he was feeling particularly cheerful one day, he might see himself and John fostering some sort of friendship again. But definitely not so <em>soon.</em></p><p>Dirk had gone close to nocturnal, so it was no surprise that he didn't sleep the rest of the night. But if he was a normal functioning member of society, tomorrow would likely be wrecked by how little sleep he got tossing and turning and <em>overthinking</em> about John Egbert.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Another party.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another longer chapter! But after this one, everything will be caught up until the next scene skip! I think next chapter should be a little shorter based on what's currently happening, but who knows!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next couple weeks, with the weight lifted off his chest, were so comfortable in comparison. Even if nothing much changed. John slept over, wished Dave good luck in the morning, made a crude reference, and left without seeing Dirk. He didn't know if there'd been much of an impact on Dirk himself, but John felt leagues better. And when the texting started, that last shred of tension flaked away.</p><p>They didn't talk much, and didn't have many topics when they <em>did</em> talk, but every time he looked over a new message from Dirk - usually about his brother - John smiled. It was definitely something, and he keeps any sort of hope for more gently tucked away because that was enough.</p><p>When John's invited to a party a short while later, he almost declines. There are a lot of reasons he really doesn't feel like partying - some more prominent than others - but in the end, he just can't say no to Roxy.</p><p>Which is how he finds himself sitting in the middle of a crumb-dusted couch with a bottle of water in one hand and the other hand stuffed into the Family Sized bag of Cheetos that's tucked between his legs. There's something uncomfortable about being one of the only sober people at a party like this, but despite that, John's having an okay time.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk sort of regretted that he didn't drive his own truck the second he was in the backseat of Dave's car. He felt like he was an awkward chaperone for a prom date, third-wheeling silently on his phone while Dave and Karkat had some sort of fight over what to play on the radio. It didn't seem too serious though, considering the way Dave kept grinning like an absolute dork. He'd have to tease him about it later.</p><p>Roxy was still texting Dirk, despite her party having started a while ago, mostly with the intent of harassing him so she could make sure he actually came. She wouldn't believe him until she saw him, though, so the exchange was pretty much pointless. Besides. She should have known by now that Dirk couldn't say no to her. He didn't think many people who cared about her could.</p><p>The texts also keep Dirk's fingers busy and away from messaging John. The barrier Dirk had hastily attempted to build between them after their falling out was gradually crumbling with the small conversations they'd been having with each other over the past few weeks; It almost felt like they were friends.</p><p>...But that didn't mean Dirk was going to risk seeming desperate and ask if John would be at the party. He'd find out when they got there. Maybe they would hang out. Maybe not. Dirk could definitely handle it either way.</p><p>When they arrived at Roxy's place, Dirk didn't get more than a glance around the living room before Roxy was throwing herself at him, hugging him tight around his neck. Dirk couldn't help but smile, returning the hug with a gentle squeeze. It didn't last too long though, because after a few words about how happy she was to see him, her attention had latched onto Dave and his new boyfriend, who she'd been eager to meet.</p><p>Dirk pocketed his hands and scanned the room, considering going to the kitchen to make himself a drink, before his eyes landed on John. He offered a small smile, his hand lifting to give him a wave. They were at that point again, right? They'd been texting casually for a while, so it wouldn't be weird to talk in person, would it? Was he overthinking this, before he'd even had a chance to say a single word? Probably, yes.</p><p> </p><p>John entertains a few one-sided drunken conversations, but it's still early enough in the night that not too many are totally wasted yet which means he doesn't have to pretend to understand what everyone's talking about. A lot of people offer him drinks, and he knows that's the normal thing to do somewhere like this, but it still makes him nervous.</p><p>Especially when the whole reason for his alcohol avoidance slips into the room. John feels that little flip-floppy sensation in his belly that he gets whenever seeing or talking to Dirk, and his lips curl into a wide smile when he waves. John returns it and wonders if it'd be weird to approach.</p><p>They hadn't seen each other since that night at the Strider apartment, and Dirk looked good. But did that mean they could be the kind of pals to just casually approach and chat with one another yet?</p><p>John glances to either side at his other conversational options - both slightly swaying in their seat (and he didn't know either of them anyway) before deciding there wasn't any harm in trying. He leaves the bag of cheese puffs in his seat, standing and walking over.</p><p>"Hey man." When he's close enough, he tilts his head toward Dave and his date, still being questioned by their host. To John's knowledge, Dave shouldn't even know that he and Dirk have even met, so he doesn't know if it'll look weird that he's talking to his brother. Thankfully, he seems momentarily distracted by Karkat and Roxy. "So uh. What do you think about Dave's new guy?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's worries simmered down completely when John cheesed at him, offering up that stunning grin of his alongside a wave. It made something in Dirk's chest flutter with warmth, and he couldn't bring himself to stop glancing over from behind his shades. John wasn't weird about this, so that was a good sign. He doubted that John would actually get up to come and -</p><p>Wait fuck, John was getting up.</p><p>He found himself standing up a bit straighter as John approached him - luckily this time Dirk didn't smell like weed and look like shit. His hands slip from his pockets, as if he's readying himself for... actually, he isn't sure why he resets his stance, and his body stands to attention at John's proximity. Something to do with his social ineptitude, most likely. At least he manages to keep his cool.</p><p>"Hey." He flits his eyes over to the trio when John tilts his head, and gives a small shrug. "He seems nice enough. I was originally concerned about his temper with Dave, but I get the impression that pseudo-bickering is some sort of bonding activity for the two of them."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk... looks visibly tense as he approaches, and John wonders if he's maybe skipped a few steps by coming over. He keeps a respectable distance, just under arm's length, and tucks his free hand in his pocket, bottle dangling from between his fingers.</p><p>"Haha, yeah. He's uh. Loud, and fun to rile up but you can kinda tell there's no real anger under it. I mean. I might just be bad at reading him, though." John licks his lips as he glances across the room. "They sure are fuckin' stupid for each other though, right? It's a good match."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. I'm happy for him. He deserves something real." Dirk's eyes had settled back on John, and were stupidly drawn to his tongue as it poked out to lick his lips. He blinked, glancing over to the doorway he knew led to the kitchen just to look at something else. He hadn't exactly planned <em>not</em> to drink tonight, considering most people at this party didn't seem to have any intention of staying sober. But Dirk found himself remembering that John wasn't planning on drinking again.</p><p>There was a moment's pause between them.</p><p>"You think Roxy has orange juice?"</p><p> </p><p>"God, yeah he does." The silence between them, for the first time in a while, doesn't feel heavy, and John was glad. He thinks that maybe nothing will come of it, but it's nice to know they can at least talk to each other, especially over their mutual love for Dave.</p><p>The question throws him, and John furrows his brow in consideration. "Uhh. Maybe not? Why, were you going to try mixing something?" He laughs a little, trying to picture Dirk with a screwdriver. "Don't raid her fridge during a party though man. Not cool."</p><p> </p><p>"No. I just need some liquid to put in a red solo cup so I don't look like a fuckin' straight edge dork." Dirk says above the music, mostly kidding. The implication was there that he wasn't going to drink - even though Karkat had agreed to be their DD. Though, despite that, he was man enough to admit that he needed a buffer at parties like this.</p><p>Take a sip. Nod. Walk away. Classic move. He was a natural buzzkill when he wasn't drunk, which is to say no - he was not fun at parties, proving the age-old diss beyond a shadow of a doubt.</p><p>He shrugs a shoulder, starting through the small groups of people for the kitchen, expecting John to follow. Though, in retrospect, he didn't really have to. John very well could have stayed back to talk to Dave and Karkat.</p><p> </p><p>He <em>could</em> have stayed with them, but John barely hesitates before following after Dirk. He could spend time with them whenever. The statement was enough to make John curious, but he tries not to jump to any conclusions. "First off, you just called <em>me</em> a straight edge dork and I resent that. Second, don't nose around in Roxy's kitchen! You're a <em>terrible</em> party guest, Dirk."</p><p>John hangs back a bit when they reach their destination, anxiously giving Dirk his space and wondering if he should go back to the couch before overstaying his welcome. "If you want oj so bad, dude, I'll just order some and have it delivered. Would that be, like. Funny? Or just mean to the employee?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't comment on John being straight edge, because he felt anything he could have said would have seemed like it was in bad taste. Besides, he was still slightly reeling that John had actually followed him in the first place. Were they... actually friends now? Acquaintances? It certainly felt a lot less like pulling teeth to talk to him. "The last time Roxy was at my place, she stole my favorite flat iron. It's karma."</p><p>Dirk opens the fridge despite John's judgment, and unsurprisingly doesn't find any orange juice. He instead leans his hip against the counter, turning back to face John. "Maybe not <em>mean.</em> Though, a stunt like that basically requires that you leave a massive tip. Compensation for memeing an underpaid employee, and all that."</p><p> </p><p>John snorts and glances off to the side, finding a nearby counter to lean against as well. "I dunno, Dirk. Sounds a lot less like karma and a lot more like you being petty." He smirks, then bites his lip, worried he might take it poorly. When Dirk entertains the idea of him buying the juice, his phone is already in his hand.</p><p>He takes it for the distraction it could be, clicking through a shopping app. "Sure, sure. Any preference on brand? Pulp?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't say anything to that, because yeah, actually, he was being pretty petty. Roxy had given it back to him ages ago, but Dirk was ironically determined not to let her live it down. At least until the joke got stale.</p><p>John's jab might have landed a bit differently, if it weren't for the fact that Dirk could visibly see the smirk on his face. It made a little smile of his own tug up his lips. He decides to play along.</p><p>"Anything organic. Not that Sunny-D, Bright and Early shit. It actually, genuinely makes me fucking sick. Might be allergic."</p><p> </p><p>He's too intent on his phone, browsing through the brands and taking this seriously to notice the small smile. The whole thing might have been a joke but by god, John was going to get something Dirk actually wanted. He hovers his thumb over Simply Orange because it's always been good enough for him, before he realizes he's unsure if it's actually organic. "You didn't answer the pulp question. I don't know if you're aware, but that was a test." John darts his eyes at him over the edge of his phone.</p><p> </p><p>"I understand that there are a lot of things not to like about me, but a preference for pulp isn't one of them. I'm not a fucking monster, Egbert." Dirk quips, and it unintentionally comes out a little more self-deprecating than he intended for it to be. He doesn't dwell on it, just raising a brow at John as he continues. "Who the fuck likes pulp? If this is a trick question and you're one of the unfortunate few, I'm sorry to say that I'm going to have to call this the end of our broship."</p><p><em>Broship</em>? Was that what this was?</p><p> </p><p>John makes his stance immediately known when Dirk reacts; he slowly turns his head, eyes wide and lips pursed(but still with a smile) as he stares. His eyes squint, he shakes his head, and he makes a selection on the screen before finalizing the transaction.</p><p>In the little 'notes to tell the driver' section, he types out a quick 'just head on inside! we're in the kitchen.' before clicking off the phone screen and sighing. "Wow. <em>Wow</em>, Strider. You unnatural bastard. I'm sorry we can't be pals after all."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's raised brow flattens, just staring at John for a long moment before folding his arms over his chest. He was fighting a smile, twitching almost like he had to sneeze. It normally wasn't this difficult, but. John.</p><p>"Are you fucking with me? John, that's goddamn vile. How is it possible for one man to have such awful taste? I'm struggling to remember one good preference you've had on anything, ever."</p><p> </p><p>John's reaction would have potentially more impact if he himself weren't also trying to laugh. "Oh, that's rich coming from <em>you</em>, Strider." He huffs, clicks his tongue, and down the last of his water. "No one asked you to be a sneaky bastard tonight." He wants to say there's no need for solidarity, but he only has a small percentage of suspicion and doesn't want to look stupid.</p><p>"And for the record, I think there's a lot to like about you. But you'd be better off with fucking Tang or the Sunny D if you don't want pulp. All it is is a sour, overly acidic water without it."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk starts to say something, but his breath his stolen from his lungs at John's words. <em>A lot to like about him?</em> Dirk wasn't enough of a sad sack to ignore that he had some nice qualities, but the acknowledgment hit him different when it was coming from John's mouth. His heart was doing the squeezy thing again, and he was somehow not blushing. It serves well at shutting him up, at least.</p><p>"I wasn't kidding when I said I was allergic to the artificial shit, man."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't say anything for a moment, and it successfully takes the wind right out of his sails. Way to go, John, you're super great at making everyone uncomfortable. He tries to pull a drink from his empty bottle before sighing and tossing it into the recycling. The rest of the water was back out in the living room, and John was too awkward to walk away. He stuffs his hands back into his pocket.</p><p>He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "Just saying, its practically the same thing. And you could always just <em>drink</em> tonight."</p><p> </p><p>"No. I'm..." <em>DDing tonight?</em> Why would he lie? Things might have been weird between them, but that would likely be going a little far, he thought. If he and John were somehow, remarkably, on good terms again, there was no point in avoiding the truth. "...Not interested. Sucks to be the only sober person at a party, man."</p><p>It's all he says, because he's still emotionally handicapped and incapable of being direct - <em>I'm not drinking, if you can't</em> - when it comes to this particular... situation. Dirk thinks he's able to play it cool, though.</p><p> </p><p>The corners of his lips waver before being pulled back up. It's... really sweet of Dirk to forego having a fun time to keep John company. He considers later on convincing him it's cool, maybe leaving early so Dirk can enjoy himself, but for now it's nice to have him.</p><p>"<em>God</em>, it's like being the only adult with a group of kids at Chuck E Cheeses. Like. I mean I <em>guess</em> I'll go play another arcade game while everyone else is screaming from the tunnels and ball pit."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk found some tension he didn't know he was holding release from his body when John smiles at him. "Exactly. Except instead of kids coming to cry at you over skinning their knee, it's grown-ass adults crying because they can't lick their elbow." A pause. "Actually, those are interchangeable. Scratch that. It's exactly like Chuck E Cheese, just minus the wicked animatronics."</p><p>Dirk had a fleeting sensation that he was rambling, but he couldn't be sure if that was because he hadn't spoken to many people in person lately, and this was just... what <em>talking</em> was like.</p><p> </p><p>John snickers, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I dunno, some people still move around with that haunting emptiness once they get wasted enough; I think they make good substitutes." His phone pings from his pocket, and John reads the notification that the driver is on the way.</p><p>He gets a little swoop in his belly, the same he gets when a good prank is coming to fruition, and John licks his lips in anticipation, moving to better see the front door from where he's standing. There's still a pang of guilt, but he gave the person a 69% tip on the app checkout screen. He still pulls fifteen dollars from his wallet, folding it up and holding it against the back of his phone cause he's pretty sure he read somewhere that digital tips get taxed and that's pretty fucked up. Besides. 69% of five dollars was still only like three something.</p><p>"Your juice is coming."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's brows slowly start to rise above the rim of his shades. He can't help but breathe out a laugh through his nose, looking at John incredulously from behind the tinted barrier. "You seriously bought me orange juice."</p><p>It's less of a question than it is a statement, and Dirk is really struggling to keep that smile off his face at this point. It was sweet. Stupid, yeah, and most definitely just a dumb joke - but sweet, nonetheless. "Is this just an excuse to try and trick me into drinking the fruit backwash that is pulpy orange juice?"</p><p> </p><p>He does a minor doubletake at the statement, head tilted because <em>duh</em>. "<em>Duh.</em> Why would I say I'm buying you something and then not do it?" Feeling a little on the spot, John can feel his face heating from embarrassment, and he tries for over-casual to cover it up. "Don't worry, your juice is fully strained, you heathen. Can't believe everyone. Pulp makes it better! You're drinking straight acid without it."</p><p> </p><p>"I assumed you were fucking with me, since the premise was ridiculous. Forgive me for forgetting that I shouldn't doubt you." Dirk says, but there's no animosity behind it. His voice was veering close to something like <em>endeared</em> even, not that he would admit it, or even recognize it in the first place, probably. That likely had something to do with the blush spreading over John's face.</p><p>"It's not acid, dude. Lemonade is straight acid, unless it's been diluted to sugar water. If I <em>wanted</em> little strings of sugary bullshit in my mouth, I would just suck off a -" Dirk cuts off whatever crude way he was about to end that sentence. "Actually, I'm not sure why I'm wasting my breath. There's no convincing a man that willingly consumes mint chocolate chip anything. Your taste is irredeemable."</p><p> </p><p>"You'll figure it out eventually, dude." Was that too forward to say? Sure, they were talking to each other, but actually assuming that they'd make it a regular thing felt like it was pretty presumptuous. John wishes he could just <em>talk</em> to this guy without turning it into a puzzle game in his head of 'too much? not enough?'</p><p>Thankfully Dirk distracts him from his anxious thoughts with something nasty, so he pushes them to the side in favor of calling him gross. "They're not strings, dude. It's mush! I'm a texture eater! I <em>like</em> the feel of the frozen bits of chocolate crumbling between my teeth! I like the sweet mint! You're just basic."</p><p> </p><p>If Dirk finds the comment to be weird, he doesn't show it. He only shakes his head at the second instead, as if he were disappointed, sucking his teeth to make a <em>tch</em> sound.</p><p>"You just wish that you could eat toothpaste without getting sick. It's alright. Admitting you have a problem is the first step." He shrugs a shoulder, nodding as if he very much understood. It felt good to fuck with him like this - made him start to remember that first night he'd really gotten to know him. The way John was surprisingly easy to talk to, with how well he could keep up with his bullshit. Their <em>date.</em></p><p> </p><p>A derisive laugh (mostly put-upon) rolls out of him. "Okay man I thought you were just exaggerating for humor's sake but if you <em>really</em> think mint ice cream tastes like toothpaste then you've never actually had any, have you? At least not any good brands. All mint isn't toothpaste, Dirk!!"</p><p>He clicks on his phone screen again, wondering how far the store was from Roxy's place. There wasn't a map for this application, and for all John knew, the driver could be pulling up now. It's dragging on enough that he's starting to feel a little guilty for making some poor sap drive down to a party at night while they're stuck at work. There was a decent chance it'd be funny or interesting enough that they'd like it - a story to tell - but there was also a chance that it'd just be stressful and upsetting. He turns away from Dirk, toward the door, worrying his lip as he considers calling it and just waiting outside for them to show up.</p><p>"I'm. I think I'm just gonna meet them at the driveway. Should I? Sure, it'd be funny to watch them react..." John tsks and leans an elbow on the counter, angling back to look at Dirk. He needs a moral compass here - or at the very least just someone to flick the needle of his own. "What do you think?"</p><p> </p><p>"I've had enough to know that the shit is nasty," Dirk remarks flatly. The mint chocolate issue was one of many inane things that he's subconsciously decided were abhorrent stains on the face of the Earth, and would never believe otherwise. Maybe he was dramatic and stubborn - though not as much as his brother, the mention of John stepping outside had Dirk thinking of his brother near the door, and how awfully he would take the news that John was into garbage as well. It was just something in the genes, he thought.</p><p>John asked him a question, though. He spoke up after a brief pause of getting lost in thought.</p><p>"If you're doing it more to fuck with the delivery guy than me, just stay in here. Watch the poor dude squirm. If not, I'll go with you."</p><p> </p><p>"But what if I wanna fuck with both of you?" It's absolutely a whine, petulant, and just an octave below shrill. There's a little swell of warmth in his chest when Dirk offers to go with him, but John internally rolls his eyes. He's not going to get all clammy-palmed just because Dirk said he'd go outside to get his own damn orange juice, but John can't fully brush away how good it felt to hear the words 'I'll go with you' from him.</p><p>He's starting to get stupid again.</p><p>John considers the options again, but he catches the sight of slow headlights coming down the street, shining through the windows and bouncing off the fridge. Definitely a tentative and confused driver. Despite his concern, John's cheeks dimple with amusement. "Looks like the decision's been made for us, dude." He expected a text, something to inform John that the driver was here, but nothing comes, and soon there's a very startled individual cautiously pushing the front door open. John smirks over at Dirk before pushing off the counter and walking into the living room.</p><p> </p><p>John's whiny little complaint is honestly nothing more than cute. Objectively cute. Dirk didn't have to have a previous almost not actually relationship with him to recognize that. A lot of things about John were cute, actually. One of the most notable, of course, being that dimpled grin of his. Those were just the facts. He could recognize them without it heading into dangerous territory, right?</p><p>There wasn't anything stupid about platonically appreciating a fellow bro.</p><p>Aside from, maybe, that thought itself, reminiscent of gay panic of a particularly dude-y bro. Dirk's straightness, or lack thereof, most definitely wasn't in question here.</p><p>...He really needed to stop zoning out.</p><p>Dirk easily makes up the growing distance between him and John with long legs as he starts into the living room to no doubt grab a single bottle of orange juice from the understandably confused delivery driver.</p><p> </p><p>There were more people near the entrance than John anticipated, and some of them were more coherent than others. It's a little awkward, but still funny enough that John doesn't do much more than turn red around the ears as he weaves through them. He glances back and spies Dirk coming up behind him, and the blush grows because he could have absolutely stayed hidden in the kitchen, but he came out with John anyway.</p><p>John angles back toward the delivery driver with a wave. "Hey! Hi. Sorry for the mess! My buddy here just <em>absolutely</em> <strong><em>had</em></strong> to have some orange juice tonight, so who am I to deny that?" The driver purses their lips, nods, and holds out the bag. John can kinda tell there's some amusement there, so he doesn't feel too bad as he grabs the, of course, single bottle, holding out the extra tip in the process while he passes the bag to Dirk.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk took the bag, seemingly unfazed - John didn't seem to be putting <em>too</em> much effort into embarrassing him with the needy orange juice persona he was trying to reflect onto Dirk, but he loved a challenge. Even if he was the one to go the extra mile. John was already blushing anyway, after all.</p><p>"What can I say, I need the electrolytes for the massive orgy you have planned later." The lie slips from Dirk's mouth nice and easy, and without an iota of regret. He leans slightly closer to the delivery driver, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "It's a record high tonight. We've never had this many over at once."</p><p> </p><p><strong><em>Bastard.</em></strong> John's smile freezes on his face, lips pulled tight almost in a grimace for a moment as his eyes glaze over, fully retreating into his own mind. Thankfully the driver has turned all of their startled attention on Dirk, giving John the chance to recover. He squints, bites down on his tongue, then allows his face to smooth back into his placid smile.</p><p>Fine. If that's how you wanted to play it, Strider.</p><p>John laughs, that stupid fake pompous laugh that assholes use, and waves the comment off. "That's only because you agreed to come, dude." He bounces his eyebrows and pretends to look over his phone. "We got another guy coming in a bit because <em>someone</em> forgot the harness. Once that's delivered, the party can <em>really</em> start." This, of course, has the effect he'd hoped for, and the delivery-person laughs, uncomfortable but still entertained, and takes a step back. John momentarily feels guilty for playing along in Roxy's house, hoping no nasty rumors get going, but.</p><p>Dirk started it.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk may or may not have been pleasantly satisfied that John was able to run with his ridiculous attempt at conversational chicken. He waves away the comment with a one-shouldered shrug, leaning back on his heels and idly pocketing his free hand.</p><p>"Hey, I didn't get the memo we were doing your leather daddy kink thing tonight, instead of the typical vanilla bukkake." Dirk gives the delivery person - who seems to be attempting to make an obvious attempt to get the fuck out of there - a look that communicated something like: <em>Can you believe this guy?</em></p><p> </p><p>As dedicated as he was to the cause, John is nowhere near the level of stone-faced as the Strider brothers. He splutters momentarily in his desperate attempt not to laugh, and he takes just a little too long to get it under control and play it off. "Hey, it's not my fault <em>you</em> didn't check the group chat before you came down!"</p><p>Whether or not it's believable is a little moot at this point, because the driver has seemingly had enough of the attempt, politely and uncomfortably excusing themselves because they 'have to get back to work'. John schools his expression as best he can, but he can't hide his wild, almost feral smile as he waves them off.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk takes the win when John splutters in his attempts to wrestle back a laugh. He lets his aloof expression melt off as soon as the delivery driver takes their well-earned leave, a small exhale of a laugh escaping through his nose.</p><p>He almost gives John a playful little shove, but doesn't trust himself to breach the barrier of physical contact just yet. He was getting comfortable, yeah - it was becoming easier to ease the sting of his and John's... unfortunate history the more they hung out - but not <em>that</em> comfortable.</p><p>"Nice one, doofus."</p><p> </p><p>John watches them leave, only letting his weak composure finally slip off when he picks up the small little huff from Dirk. He whirls on him, almost smacking his arm lightly with the back of his hand until it barely misses and turns into an exaggerated gesture instead.</p><p>"Oh my <em>god</em>! I can't believe you, this is the <em>second</em>-" John bites it off, not upset but also not sure the reminder of Dirk's first time humiliating him in front of a stranger would be well received considering the first time was after he spent the night. "That's what I get for buying you oj, huh? Public humiliation and then called a doofus. Sheesh. See if I'm ever nice to you again." He rolls his eyes, still smiling to show he doesn't mean it, before turning to walk toward the cooler beside the couch for another water bottle.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk raises up his palms as if in self-defense, the shit-eating smirk he'd been working so hard to keep off his face spreading wide, uninhibited as he barks a short laugh. "I wouldn't call it public humiliation. An orgy is an incredibly difficult thing to execute. I'm sure that delivery person is highly impressed by your leadership skills."</p><p>He follows after John as he heads back to grab a water bottle, fishing his own bottle of organic OJ from the small plastic bag in the meantime. Normally, Dirk might have been a little more careful about how he acted with John around other people. Particularly at a party. But it seemed he wasn't even aware of how impish and playful John was making him. He was having fun. It was a rare sight indeed.</p><p> </p><p>John laughs again, more of an obliging chuckle as he shakes off the cold ice water from the outside of the plastic and wipes his hand on his shirt. "I'm pretty sure the only thing they're thinking is who they're gonna tell that they walked in on an orgy." He notices Dirk behind him, a little surprised he was followed instead of Dirk heading to the kitchen to pour his drink and... pretend it's alcohol, he guesses.</p><p>He looks so comfortable right now, and it's digging some pretty sharp, cold claws into John's chest because he knows he'd probably jump at the chance to do anything Dirk wanted as long as it included him, which would only mean getting messed up in the long run if the other guy didn't realize how bad John still had it.</p><p>"So. You got your drink."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, I did," Dirk states simply, cracking open the bottle. If he had any intention of pouring the juice into a solo cup, he didn't make the move. In actuality, he didn't really give a shit about covering up the fact that he wasn't drinking. He didn't like to make a habit of caring what strangers thought about him - the people that mattered wouldn't care if he was going sober tonight.</p><p>Though, they might have cared if they knew <em>why</em> he was going sober. But he'd cross that bridge if he came to it.</p><p>He takes a sip of the blissfully pulp-free OJ before continuing. "Bullshitting aside, thank you. You didn't have to do that for me."</p><p> </p><p>John watches him, remembering that he <em>specifically</em> said he wanted it to make people think he was drinking. Yet here he was clearly drinking a bottle of fruit juice. He laughs a little again, shrugging a shoulder. "It's juice. No big deal. The other option would have been stealing from Roxy, so I feel like I just did her a big favor."</p><p>He's suddenly very aware that they're just... standing in the middle of the room together, almost. "You really don't have to do it, though. Go play in the ball pit, Dirk. Have some fun."</p><p> </p><p>"Not really in the mood for a screwdriver tonight, man." He wasn't about to double back on his choice, especially not now, after John had quite literally bought him a drink. Though, he thinks that maybe the nudge was meant less about alcohol, and more about getting out of his hair for a bit. He'd been attached to his hip from the second he'd walked in, after all.</p><p>Dirk did his best not to feel disappointed like a dejected puppy and make it a federal fucking issue, for once in his life, and caps the bottle again. John probably just wanted to socialize, at this social function. "I'm gonna go catch up with Rox."</p><p> </p><p>John glances up from the wet handprint on his chest and feels like a fucking fool. It was breakfast all over again. When was he going to learn that being vague about wanting to spend time with people or assuring them they don't have to be obligated to hang with him would just sound like he wanted them to leave?</p><p>John's teeth clack together, and he shuffles his feet awkwardly. Dirk looked like he was having fun just a minute ago, and now he's shut off again. He mentally kicks himself, wishing he could just. Say things to people and be open. But Dirk didn't seem like the type to enjoy what would happen if John was open with him. "Uh... sure. I should go fuck around with Dave for a little bit."</p><p>He winces, squeezing his water bottle and feeling it crackle under his fingers, before looking back up at him. "But come find me after, okay?" He reaches out, touches his fingertips to the back of Dirk's hand, then lets them drop back to his side. "I want to talk more with you." John would rather scare Dirk off with affection than disinterest.</p><p> </p><p>There was a brief moment where Dirk felt the beginnings of anxiety bubbling up within him as John seemed to think of a response, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he shuffles. Dirk idly hoped that he personally didn't have so many visual cues - that he hadn't yet trained himself out of - when he was nervous; he could read John like a book when he was like this.</p><p>Dirk feels a fluttering sensation spread upward from the pit of his stomach, all the way to his throat when John spoke and touched his hand. His platonic bro gauge was getting mildly overloaded from John's affection, and the implications he might have gathered from the offer. All things considered, Dirk realized he didn't really know the guy incredibly well, aside from...well. Maybe he was just like this to everyone.</p><p>Regardless, the offer made the frown that had taken residence on his face twitch up into a smile he wasn't aware he was giving.</p><p>"Yeah. Okay."</p><p> </p><p>The heavy weight in the pit of his stomach dissipates as soon as that little uptick of Dirk's mouth is visible, and the tension building in John's shoulders sloughs off of him as he returns it unwittingly. "Cool. I'll probably still be down here, on the couch or something. I'll see you later, Dirk."</p><p>Content that he didn't fuck up <em>too</em> badly, John heads off to search for his friend, hoping Dave didn't see anything weird. He still shouldn't know they know one another, so it might be weird if Dave overhears them chatting casually like that.</p><p>John wanders the house for a while, unable to find Dave or Karkat (maybe they're getting intimate somewhere, who knew) so he drinks his water and chats with near-strangers until his thoughts turn back to Dirk and he wonders if he's still hanging out with Roxy. It'd be weird to go back down to wait for him, right? But the later in the night they got, the more wild people were starting to get, until it's a full-on party with loud rowdy drunkards filling the lower level. He's never been completely sober at a party like this, and he's starting to feel a little awkward, a little overwhelmed when they're all on a whole new level and John can't get behind any of the excitement.</p><p>He doesn't want to go back down into the thick of it, but that's where he told Dirk he'd be, and he'd really like to talk to someone who didn't reek of alcohol for a while. But then again, Dirk could have changed his mind anyway. And he <em>still</em> hadn't seen Dave since they got here.</p><p>He makes his way slowly downstairs, grabbing a small bag of chips and inspecting the brand when he doesn't recognize it for allergens. There's a free spot beside the arm of the couch, and John slots himself in, smiling at the people around him chattering and laughing and drinking. He thinks that maybe from now on he's not going to stay past 11 at parties.</p><p> </p><p>He'd seen Dave and Karkat, briefly, during his time apart from John as the night went on. Though, apparently, they hadn't run into John - Dirk made sure to ask in the least affected way possible, simply telling Dave he'd been looking for him. Dave, however, apparently taken no time at all to ungracefully pirouette off the fucking wagon, and kept getting touchy with Karkat in a salacious way that made Dirk purposefully avert his eyes while Roxy had her fun giggling away at his drunk brother and his increasingly reddening beau. Karkat excused the two of them rather quickly after that, leaving Dirk and Roxy to themselves again.</p><p>Dirk watched them carefully, just in case he needed to throw himself into overprotective brother mode, but noted that Karkat veered Dave out towards the backyard for some fresh air, rather than down the hall towards an empty bedroom. Good on him.</p><p>He spent a little while longer hanging out with Roxy, getting caught up on her latest drama and whatever purportedly '<em>dank memes</em>' he'd missed out on, before he was excusing himself to look for John. He didn't mention that part explicitly - he really didn't want to have <em>that</em> conversation with his tipsy friend tonight - but the mention that he hadn't found Dave gave him the impression that John was stranded alone in a sea of drunk losers this whole time.</p><p>Not long after John settles back downstairs, Dirk makes his appearance. He was very noticeably <em>not</em> drunk - if his steadiness amidst the throngs of swaying, shouting people he vaguely recognized had anything to say for it - and his bottle of orange juice was almost completely drained.</p><p>Dirk winds his way through the gathered groups before stopping at the arm of the couch, standing beside where John was sitting. He... hadn't been down here the whole time, had he? He offers a simple greeting, and instead of the question a simple observation. "Hey. You're still here."</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't notice Dirk return at first, politely returning the chatter of the woman sitting beside him. She's long gone, and he's sure she wouldn't notice if John stood and walked away. So when Dirk seems to practically appear beside him, John gratefully turns toward him with a smile that stretches a little thin.</p><p>"Yeah, hey. Do you mean here in the living room, or here, period?" He laughs a little, glad to see Dirk is still coherent enough to talk to him. "I'm surprised you didn't change your mind."</p><p> </p><p>"Both. I-" Dirk starts to continue, but cuts himself off when the graze of someone lightly bumping into him from behind turns into a much larger stumble against his back, making Dirk have to grip the top of the couch for balance as the guy behind him mumbles an absent apology. He shakes off the hand that had gripped his bicep to keep said stumbling dude upright, effectively shooing him in the process.</p><p>Yeah. Definitely not any sober person's paradise down here. He turns back to John, lips pursed. The cacophony of the loud music and chatter was already testing his introverted nature, and getting fallen all over certainly wasn't helping. John didn't look like he was having the epitome of a good time, either.</p><p>"Did you want to get out of here?" Dirk suggests, before he has a chance to analyze how it sounds. "To talk. You... said you wanted to talk."</p><p> </p><p>His smile stretches to something a little more genuine, if apologetic, and John reaches up to potentially steady Dirk, though he has it under control. He's had his own fair share of playing foundation for some unlucky drunks - one of them even managed to get a palmful of mantit and John can't entirely be sure it was an accident. It's wild to think about how just drinking could turn this into something enjoyable.</p><p>Kinda makes him think that maybe giving it up isn't the worst idea ever.</p><p>His attention snaps back to Dirk at the question, feeling his ears burn, but thankfully the blush doesn't spread across his face. "Uh. I mean there wasn't anything I actually wanted to talk <em>about</em>, I just liked chatting with you. But I do definitely want to get out of here, either way."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk nods, jerking his chin towards the front door as he spoke. He briefly considered an alternative - because despite their hasty, chaste exit, Dirk really didn't want to chance catching his brother making out with his boyfriend - but Dave and Karkat were in the backyard, not the front.</p><p>"Outside? It's quieter, at least."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah..." Going outside where it's cooler and there aren't as many people and the music wouldn't be as loud sounded <em>fantastic</em> right now. John struggles to sit up, having to wiggle to the edge of the seat before he can pull himself out of it. The woman who'd been leaning on him falls into the space that opens behind him and laughs, but otherwise doesn't seem to notice he's moved.</p><p>"That sounds great. Wanna raid for snacks before we go out? I didn't have dinner yet."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk only spares the girl a brief, passing glance before his eyes are back on John, his brows raising in amusement. He was, admittedly, pretty hungry too - he'd planned on treating Dave and Karkat to a drunken Waffle House run, but if Dave was the only drunk one, it would feel more like babysitting a handsy toddler, wouldn't it? Snacks didn't sound too bad right now.</p><p>"So raiding Roxy's fridge is only rude when I threaten to do it, huh?"</p><p> </p><p>He already felt leagues better just standing; maybe he was a little claustrophobic. John pinches down on his smile in a terrible attempt to hide it. "I don't know what you're talking about." He rolls his eyes and leans toward Dirk for a moment, almost brushes his shoulder against Dirk's arm before pulling back. "But no, I just meant finding some of the provided snacks that haven't already been ripped into or stomped to death. I think the only guarantee is the pretzels, and I'm fine with that if you are."</p><p>John doesn't wait for an answer - even if Dirk said he didn't want to, John was hungry as fuck and god <em>damn</em> he was going to inhale some pretzels. He doesn't know how long they'll be out there, but he plans ahead by grabbing a few bottles of water (he didn't miss how Dirk's juice had almost been gone, but it was too late now to order more and he didn't think it'd be as funny the second time around anyway) out of the slush in the cooler before starting his search for untouched snackfoods.</p><p> </p><p>"Alter the rules so they benefit you, got it." Dirk rolls his eyes behind his shades, but it's accompanied by a smile. The brief proximity of John is enough for him to instinctively start to reach out, to... what, grab his arm? He wasn't exactly sure, so he just let it drop.</p><p>He wasn't totally interested in pretzels, but it seems this particular mission wasn't up for debate, so Dirk simply followed him as he grabbed some waters from the melting cooler and started to search for not empty snacks. "Typically the best place to search for food is in the kitchen, not beer can littered coffee tables and the floor, raccoon style. Just a bit of knowledge I can pass down to you, after years of practice at feeding myself."</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, fuck your knowledge! Don't need that shit here, Strider. I have <em>instincts</em>. Besides, Roxy put a lot of the snacks out here. We're not taking her actual food!" After some digging, he manages to find an intact bag of Cheetos, and he tosses it over his shoulder, hoping to smack Dirk in the face with it in righteous proof. But aside from a few sour cream and onion chips, all that was left was pretzels.</p><p>John fills his arms with whatever he can grab, then turns to Dirk. "Well, I got what <em>I</em> wanted. You're on your own. Can you get the door for me?"</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately for John, Dirk caught the Cheetos easily in one hand, because his reflexes for incoming snacks were unparalleled. He tucks the bag in the crook of his elbow, kicking aside a few empty cans of Natty Lite and White Claw as he followed after John, and his - still remarkably raccoon-like - attempt at finding food.</p><p>"I guess it's technically possible for me not to starve with a bag of Cheetos and a single sip of orange juice. I'm good." Dirk carefully holds the bag between his elbow and side, using his free hand to pull open the front door with John. It was much, <em>much</em> cooler outside than that of the increased temperature of Roxy's house, packed full of warm bodies.</p><p>He leads the way out, waiting for John to pass through before latching it shut behind them, and ignoring his cold chill for the time being.</p><p> </p><p>That cold chill was <em>very</em> appreciated by John. He sighs and wishes he could air out the smell of booze and other people off of him, but with his arms full of snacks he has every intention of sharing, it'll have to wait. "Sorry, dude. That's what you get for hanging on the sidelines. If it makes you feel any better, you got the best option. You're welcome."</p><p>John glances around the yard, wishing there was a bench or something to sit on. The best he can spot is a large flat-ish stone near the mailbox, so he starts in that direction. "Back yard might have had better seating, but also probably more people. This is cool, though." John's already talking before he realizes he's just kind of... assumed Dirk was still with him. He bites down on his lip, a little embarrassed as he glances back to check.</p><p>It's kind of surprising that Dirk's been following him for most of their time together at the party, but he doesn't let himself think about what that might mean.</p><p> </p><p>"You're more of a Cheetos man than a pretzels man? Color me surprised. That's the only objectively correct opinion you've had about food since I met you." John didn't have to worry about Dirk following him, because he was right on his tail, just a few feet behind. Personally, he still didn't understand why John had chosen to look past what Dirk had put him through - he sure as fuck wouldn't have given himself another chance - but John seemed interested in being friends, for whatever reason. Maybe Dirk could even convince John that he wasn't a totally desperate asshole with truckloads of baggage in the process.</p><p>"It's quieter out here. Dave and Karkat might still be in the back, though." Dirk has a seat on the stone slab near the mailbox, putting his orange juice on the curb next to him as he continues. "He mentioned that you didn't run into them earlier."</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, fuck you. I'm <em>so</em> nice to you and you just can't let the mint chocolate thing go." John laughs, pleased and a little anxious at the implication. He dumps the bags all over the massive stone, then pushes them into a pile so he can sit comfortably beside them.</p><p>"Oh shit, is that where they were? I didn't check outside. I didn't see either of them all night." He starts carefully lining the three bottles of water up beside Dirk's juice, then grabs a bag of the chips to tear into. "I'd go see him, but I'm pretty sure by this point they're gonna be out of commission. We're probably the only two sober idiots left."</p><p> </p><p>"You are nice to me. But that doesn't forgive your taste. We've been over this, man. It's an impasse we're both just going to have to accept."</p><p>Dirk stretches out his legs and crosses them at the ankle, taking one of the waters that John sets down since he wasn't actually certain when the last time he'd had any was. He cracks it open to take a sip before continuing.</p><p>"Karkat was originally supposed to DD, but I told him I'd take care of it when I saw him. So, you're probably right about that one by now." Dirk tugs open the bag of Cheetos, popping one into his mouth. "Dave was already smashed by the time he found me."</p><p> </p><p>"A damn shame." John smiles at him, eyes lidded, before shoving a fingerful of chips into his mouth. He leans against the stone, more lounging than sitting, so he can angle himself toward Dirk. "That was cool of you. You made two people's nights tonight, Dirk. Thanks."</p><p>John tilts his head back to look at the sky - no stars visible, and not just from the light pollution - to have an excuse to not look at him anymore after saying something so sappy. "Huh. It'd suck if it started to rain. We'd be out of a place to hang. And the house would be even more packed."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels that stupidly familiar fluttery sensation again in his chest, but this time it's accompanied by a syrupy sort of warmth coating his heart. John... probably meant that he made Dave and Karkat's night, right? Two people. That made more sense than the alternative, and John was thanking him for looking out for his best friend. That made sense to him. He just shrugs a shoulder in acknowledgment, awkward at the concept of praise.</p><p>His eyes left John's face (how long had he been staring at him?) and shifted up towards the sky, following his gaze.</p><p>"We could always sit in your car. You'd just have to be mindful of Cheeto dust on the upholstery."</p><p> </p><p>"You say that like there isn't already some there." He snorts and pushes himself up, eating another big bite of chips before wiping the grease and flavor on his pants so he can grab a bottle for himself.</p><p>"Would you be cool with that though? It's not as nice as hanging outside - we could sit under the little awning at the front door so we could keep getting the fresh air." It doesn't escape his notice that Dirk didn't really respond to his comment; he wonders if it's made him uncomfortable somehow. That wall didn't go back up, though, so John decides not to question it anymore.</p><p>"Honestly, I'd probably just head home in that case. There's not too much for me to do here tonight, other than bug you."</p><p> </p><p>"Gross." Dirk tactfully avoids wiping his orange-tinted fingers on his dark jeans, but doesn't exactly want to suck it off his fingers either, so he just sort of. Leaves it there, for now, and substitutes his water bottle for the mostly finished orange juice. "But I wouldn't mind doing either. My preference leans slightly towards the car, just because it's a little too close to freezing out here in the elements for my personal comfort level."</p><p>Dirk finishes his orange juice, setting the empty bottle back on the curb. "Why'd you come?" He asks abruptly, though it's not meant to sound so interrogative. "If you knew you weren't going to drink, I mean. If anything, it's more of a headache to be here sober."</p><p> </p><p>John lifts a shoulder as he leans back, dusting some small rubble off where it started to dig into his elbow. "Roxy asked. And I thought it might have been pretty fun, at least for a while. I think it's only fun when you can limit your awareness though. When you're drunk you only really notice what you're paying attention to. When you're sober you notice the whole room, and it's. A lot. It's overwhelming."</p><p>He sighs, wishing he could lie down, but the rock is too much of an awkward shape, and even if the cold doesn't bother him that much he'd still rather not lay in the grass.</p><p>"If you're cold now, we could do that. I could even get the heater going, maybe some music as long as it's not on for more than a couple hours, or my battery might die." That seemed presumptuous, but it's too late now. John smirks to cover it up. "I guess I got the advantage, growing up in the cooler climate of Washington while you grew up in Hell's Asscrack."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk simply nods in understanding. Not only was he very familiar with not being able to turn down Roxy, but he was also doubly familiar with being the sober buzzkill. He didn't make a habit of letting himself get out of control with the alcohol. Except, of course, for... well.</p><p>He rolls up the top of the Cheeto bag after a few more bites and sets it next to John's snack pile, his stomach sated for now. "Yeah, fucking tell me about it. We didn't have A/C growing up. Just oscillating fans, until I bought a unit for the window in Dave and I's bedroom." Dirk muses. "While you can handle a little snow, we have the benefit of built-in fire resistance."</p><p>He sits back on his hands, briefly curling his fingers in the grass and making no move to get up. That being said, of course, he could handle a little chill. No big deal. John didn't even seem bothered.</p><p> </p><p>"Oof. That sucks, man. I think I'm good with my current elemental resistance setup personally - I can handle being miserable in summer if it means enjoying a nice chill breeze and not being a baby about it." Sure, it was probably a dumb thing to say, but his tone is affectionate at least.</p><p>John considers, only for a moment, moving closer to help Dirk stay warm. He stares, the red spreading over his face thankfully not as obvious in the dark. Dirk didn't seem to be interested in going back inside or moving to the car unless it started to rain, so John thinks over his options.</p><p>He could stay where he is, keep the atmosphere light and friendly. Dirk might be a little chilly, which might make him want to leave sooner, but they'd still be comfortable. Or he could offer and potentially make Dirk want to go back inside right away because he's being a weird asshole. John sighs, pushes up his glasses and tugs at his hair for a moment before looking back up at the sky. "You know, I'm practically a living furnace over here."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk purses his lips, even though he knew John was just messing with him. He very much <em>wasn't</em> being a baby. He was here bearing the cold just the same as John - sure maybe his hands and the tip of his nose were freezing cold, but did you hear him complaining? Absolutely not. His poker face was firm as always.</p><p>At least, until John says that last thing, and it makes his face warm in a different way than the pink flushed chill of his nose. He glances over to him, giving him a once over as if the sight of John alone would clear up all the questions and uncertainty that sprung to Dirk's mind. Was... that supposed to be some sort of offer?</p><p>"Alright man, you're a warm-blooded god of winter tolerance, I get it. No need to brag."</p><p> </p><p>Well. It somehow didn't do anything John expected it to, but neutrality was better than negativity. Like always. He huffs through his nose, gets comfortable, and pours the last of the chips straight from the bag into his mouth before crumpling it and stuffing it into his pocket. He starts in on a bag of pretzels.</p><p>"Sure. My bad." John bounces his leg awkwardly before breathing in the night air. "Smells like a bonfire somewhere nearby; I smell woodsmoke. Maybe you could crash that party?" He hooks his fingers through several pretzels before bringing his hand up to eat them one by one.</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs off the apology, not really sure what it was for. John typically met his quips with one of his own. Had Dirk said something stupid?</p><p>"Dude, I'm fine. Quit worrying, I can handle a little cold. It's mainly just my hands, and I doubt whoever's having some sort of kumbaya by the fireside would appreciate me trekking it over just to warm up my icicle fingers." Dirk remarks, tearing his eyes from John's face when he lifts the chip bag to his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>"That's what your pits are for, dude. Natural built-in hand warmers." There was some odd sort of suspension around them, and John's not sure he likes it. He just wanted to be friends with Dirk, and ignore everything else, but he can't focus when they're alone together.</p><p>He finishes the pretzels clinging to his fingers before closing the bag. He's still hungry, but these just aren't gonna do anything for him so the polite thing would be to put them all back. John sits up, downs half the bottle of water (damn salty foods), and starts to gather the bags into his lap. "I think I'm gonna head home anyway. These are pretty shit for a dinner substitute, and I still think it's gonna rain."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk hesitates, but eventually tucks his hands under his arms, if only for a brief second to subtly test the theory. His eyes immediately flit back to John when he continues, watching him gather the snacks as he speaks, Dirk's back straightening where he sat.</p><p>"Oh." It's all Dirk says at first, a flicker of disappointment crossing over his features. It only lasts for a moment though, before he's matching John's efforts and grabbing his empty OJ bottle, now that John had all the snacks. "...Cool. In that case, I should go try and wrangle Dave and Karkat into the Prius."</p><p>There was another moment's hesitation, before Dirk was continuing, somehow sounding offhanded and hesitant at the same time. He'd sort of deemed the plan as a bust before. He wasn't sure why he doubled back. "We were planning on grabbing food at Waffle House after. It's not great food, but it's food."</p><p> </p><p>John laughs quietly when Dirk tucks his hands under his arms, almost like he's curious. But he doesn't have time to ask if it actually helped before Dirk is agreeing to leave. He feels another little fluttering in his chest, wondering if Dirk was only staying this late because John was, but that kind of defeated the point of not <em>thinking</em> about it.</p><p>It kind of sounds like Dirk's discouraged, but it's too dark to see if there's any minor indication of it on his face, and it's only going to confuse John more either way.</p><p>It's a struggle to get the extra water bottle in his hands, but John manages to get everything gathered when he stands. Before he can start heading to the house, Dirk mentions getting some food. It's not really phrased as an invitation, but John decides he's going to take it as one anyway. He smiles as they walk back into the light. "I'd love to go, if you want me to."</p><p> </p><p>The strange nervousness at his offer/not offer to John dissipated immediately once he agreed, that small smile returning to his face to mirror John's. It felt like a win, and Dirk felt warm again. "Yeah. Sure."</p><p>Whether or not Dirk was aware of it was a moot point, but he grew more relaxed now that their awkward moment had passed. He takes a step towards John, grabbing the extra water bottle from his arms that he was precariously balancing, since his hands were pretty much empty. Not after the obligatory moment of watching him struggle though, of course.</p><p>He starts to lead the way back up the walkway to the front door, expecting John to follow. "I hope you understand that just means you have to help me parent Dave for the next couple hours."</p><p> </p><p>He has to play catch with one of the pretzel bags after Dirk snatches the water - his body reacted on instinct, believing that it was falling, and it dislodges the topmost pack. He's pretty damn proud of the catch, though, smiling at Dirk as though he were waiting for praise before feeling like a dumb kid and shaking it off.</p><p>"Not a problem, dude. You say that like I'm not already familiar with it." Of course it probably didn't count that John was <em>also</em> drunk at the time. But something about the thought of being the responsible adult with Dirk was both funny and pleasant at the same time.</p><p>John follows obediently, only pausing to drop all the unopened things back where he got them. "I'll help you get him into the car, then I'll meet you there, yeah? Is Karkat wasted yet? Fuck, I bet that's hilarious to witness."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk breathes a chuckle as John fumbles, giving an approving nod when he doesn't drop anything after Dirk's water bottle rescue upset his balance. Once they were inside, Dirk makes the effort of actually throwing away his empty orange juice bottle, rather than leaving it on the floor. He holds onto the water for now - he'd probably need to get Dave to drink some in the car, if he hadn't already.</p><p>Once John had dumped all the leftover snacks where he'd found them, Dirk starts weaving the crowd to make his way for the backyard. He keeps his pace a little slower though, so as not to lose John in the shuffle, and keeps talking. "He wasn't when I saw him, but that was something like an hour ago. Plenty of time, considering Dave must have pounded whatever he found to get wasted in less than that."</p><p> </p><p>John laughs and keeps his own bottle as well as the opened bag of pretzels in his hand. No point in wasting them, and pretzels, while no one's first choice, were still good.</p><p>"God. Lightweight." He snickers and speeds his pace so he can walk side-by-side with Dirk. "Any idea where they are? I've already proven I've got a shitty Dave Radar, so I'm leaning wholly on you for support, dude."</p><p> </p><p>"A couple of hard ciders is all it takes." Dirk agrees, opening the sliding glass door and startling a (likely stoned) partygoer that looked fascinated with the invisible glass barrier in front of them. Dirk steps out into the yard, which was, predictably, packed with more of Roxy's friends.</p><p>"They left through here, last time I saw them. Dave is probably cold though, so he'd be..." Dirk trails off into a mumble as his eyes scanned through the backyard, looking for a head of straw blonde hair that matched his. He came up short. "Let's take a lap before we check inside, just in case."</p><p> </p><p>He laughs again, this time more at the poor fucker who looked out of his mind as they stepped through the door. John offers a wave to the stranger before steadying himself with Dirk's arm as he steps down. It's totally necessary, okay?</p><p>"Hm. You sure? We could also just like. Call him and see if we can hear it." John shrugs and steps forward into the lawn. "Or we could just split up and meet in the middle?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't pull away as John uses his arm to steady him, the touch sending tingles of electricity up his arm. He tears his attention from the yard back to John as he steps off the small patio, looking down to meet his eyes.</p><p>"His phone is always on silent, so calling him would be pointless." Dirk says, seeming to consider splitting up for a brief moment, before shaking his head. "And besides. You said it yourself, your Dave-dar is shit. If anything, I'll find him, and then we'll have to find <em>you.</em>" Dirk teases, pulling out his phone to send Dave a text, just in case. "Just stay with me."</p><p> </p><p>John clicks his tongue against his teeth, embarrassed that his idea wouldn't work, then <em>doubly</em> embarrassed at the slight jab. "Damn. Okay <em>dad</em>, you sure you wouldn't rather put me on a kiddie leash and drag me around instead?"</p><p>John snorts and stuffs his hand into his pockets, pulling out the crumpled chip bag from earlier. He tosses it into a bucket that seems to have been used as an ashtray as he trails after Dirk, not even bothering to look for his friend.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm messing. But if you think that's the best solution, it can be arranged." Dirk says, a little smile tugging at his lips at John's response. He wasn't trying to embarrass him, really, but he was always appreciative of flustering John.</p><p>Dirk pockets his phone when he doesn't get a response from Dave, leading the way through the yard and making sure to keep an eye on any dark, secluded corners. He wasn't exactly a fan of catching the two of them... <em>in the middle</em> of something, but recognized that it was a fair guess of what they might have been up to.</p><p>Luckily, (or, unluckily, in the case of their search) Dirk didn't spot them anywhere in the backyard. Must have gotten too cold for them?</p><p>"If you haven't spotted any red hot clues, let's check inside."</p><p> </p><p>John snorts and rolls his eyes, more exaggeratedly than usual since it's dark out here. "Of <em>course</em> you'd be into putting me on a leash. Kinky weirdo." He ignores the little twists in his gut at the thought of... <em>that</em>, and instead focuses his entire imagination to being on a kid harness and running around like a hyperactive idiot while Dirk tries to hold him back. Because that's funny and not at all weird.</p><p>He sticks close by, trusting him to be able to spot his brother. "Gotta confess, man. I'm not really looking that hard. My Dave-Dar sucks, remember? I'm mostly looking for any signs of Karkat since I figure you've got Dave down. And I'm turning up with nothing. We could ask? But not sure how successful that might be."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wasn't shameless enough for the comment not to make him feel a small spike of embarrassment, because yeah honestly he was - even if the leash thing in particular didn't get him going - and John <em>knew</em> that. At least Dirk didn't blush.</p><p>He glances over his shoulder to look at him briefly at the confession. "Maybe your Dave-dar sucks because you just admitted you aren't even looking. Come on, dude. Get with the program. I highly doubt we'll find one and not the other." Dirk just steps back up onto the patio, sliding open the glass door for John to enter first. He eyes the staircase leading off the living room, and motions for John to follow him.</p><p>He feels a prickling sensation of dread starting to rise within him. He really, <em>really</em> would love to avoid seeing his brother getting dicked down, but. He could only fool himself for so long. Upstairs was much quieter. More private. "...That being said. I have a feeling they're not going to be down here mingling with everyone else."</p><p> </p><p>John's head falls back for a moment. "But I looked for him <em>all night</em> already," he whines. "I told you I'd be leaning on you for support here, I'd be more of a hindrance than anything." But he's arguing just for the sake of being difficult now, and after being called out (because he flat out admitted to it; don't pin this on Dirk) he cuts the act and slips back inside, standing up on his toes to see over the various heads dotting the room.</p><p>Dirk waves him over, and John squints, slowly following. He doesn't really like the implication that he thinks Dirk is going for, and the humor twists into mild discomfort. "Oh. Well. After you, dude." He laughs awkwardly and tries not to look at the room he found Dirk in a few months ago. "Maybe we should just shout their names."</p><p> </p><p>"You can still use your eyes, unless you've been miraculously following me this whole time with them closed." Dirk doesn't fall for John's played up whining, leading the way up the stairs as the chatter from the living room grew quieter with every step up - as well as the brightness dimming. There was only one room with its door open, at the end of the hall - it seemed like mostly everyone else had migrated downstairs where the rest of the party was.</p><p>Dirk only shrugs a shoulder at the suggestion, pointedly passing the guest room he'd come stumbling out of that one morning, forever ago now. Weird memories. "If you think they'll answer, go for it."</p><p> </p><p>The urge to flirt bubbles up, John can feel himself starting to say something <em>really fucking stupid</em>, lips pulled into a smirk - but miraculously, he bites it back down. What was the point in constantly putting it out there when they were trying to be friends? Besides, he'd already done a fair amount of flirting already tonight; maybe it was time to put a self-assigned limit on it or something.</p><p>It's easier to quell the urge much quicker when Dirk passes the room without even trying it, and John's belly twisted in an unpleasant way. He faces the hall, sucks in a deep breath, and cups his hands around his mouth before shouting, "<strong>DAVE!</strong>" His hands drop, and John leans forward intently, head tilted as he listens. "Probably won't do much but like. Maybe, right?"</p><p> </p><p>It didn't matter that Dirk was expecting the shout, he still flinched violently, cursing softly under his breath as he instinctively attempts to play it off by rubbing the back of his neck and breathing a heavy exhale. "Christ, John."</p><p>After that curt response though, Dirk does listen alongside John, for... well, anything really. If they miraculously weren't up to what Dirk expected, they'd hear something back - there was no way Dave didn't hear John's projected call.</p><p>The only thing Dirk could hear was the party downstairs, at first. After a few seconds though, there was a <em>thunk</em> noise from the closed room to their right - Roxy's room, jesus fucking christ, Dave - and a barely audible '<em>ow, fuck</em>' immediately after that most definitely belonged to his brother. It sounded a bit too far away for him to be right on the other side of the door, though. What were they doing?</p><p>"Did you hear that?"</p><p> </p><p>His hand shoots out, holding Dirk's wrist in an apology, and John is both proud and a little ashamed for startling him like that. But he doesn't hold the contact for long, dropping his hand at the thud from nearby. John didn't quite pick up the words, but he definitely thinks he heard Dave in the side room. He doesn't even recognize it as Roxy's until he steps up to it and realizes the placement.</p><p>"Holy shit-" What was Dave doing in <em>Roxy's</em> room? He shoots an uncomfortable look up at Dirk before turning the knob and slowly pushing in, face pulled back in anxiety as he peers around the door.</p><p>The first pass turns up with nothing, so he opens wider before stepping out of the way for Dirk to enter in first. "After you, man..."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk <em>wasn't</em> blushing until John takes his wrist as if to apologize, feeling the residual embarrassment trickle in, but it was quick to get replaced by trepidation as John grabs the doorknob. He returns the nervous glance, feeling like he was in some shitty horror film, as John pushes open the door to Roxy's room.</p><p>Dirk steps in first, brushing past John, and his eyes immediately went to the bed first, finding it empty, thank fuck. They weren't in here. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, giving John a slight motion with his hand to urge him to follow. He keeps quiet and shuts his eyes to listen - much easier since it was quieter in here than the hall - and hears a shuffling noise from the closed door of Roxy's ensuite bathroom.</p><p>Dirk's brows furrow in slight confusion before his lips purse. He looks back at John and jerks his thumb at the bathroom door as the source of the noise. He doesn't move closer towards it though, as if he were waiting for John to do knocking duty, because he sure as fuck didn't want to. The slight fumble in his next words did a well enough job communicating that. "In, uh. There, I think."</p><p> </p><p>John hangs by the door, pulling it closed to block out the ambiance of the rest of the house and trying not to feel awkward about being in <em>Roxy's room</em> with the door closed. With a guy he's fucked. It felt weirdly like cheating but he's not in a relationship with either of them. John shakes off his discomfort and sticks close to Dirk, suppressing the bubbling laughter in his chest.</p><p>He doesn't hear the noise, but trusts Dirk's tension when he gestures to the bathroom door. There's a moment of silence before John realizes his intentions, and that uncomfortable laughter spills out.</p><p>"What are you telling <em>me</em> for? He's <em>your</em> brother!" He hisses out in a whisper that's a little too loud to actually be considered a whisper, practically plastered to Dirk's back with his head poking around his side. "You've probably already seen him naked at some point." His laughter only rises when he acknowledges how ridiculous the situation is. It was just awkward, not something traumatizing. "Maybe we should make a lot of noise to like. Scare them off each other?"</p><p> </p><p>He has the instinctive urge to shush John - even though they weren't the ones hiding from anyone, despite the now closed door - when his whisper edged on being too loud. "What? So? I still don't - ugh." He slips to the side so John can't hide behind him, giving him a light shove towards the door. "Just because I've seen him naked doesn't mean I have to do it. He's <em>your</em> best friend. Just- knock, it's fine."</p><p>He realized he was being petulant and sort of childish about shying away from this when John laughed. He also did not care, for once, about letting John see how much it irked him to take this last step.</p><p> </p><p>His uncomfortable laughter turns into a genuine snicker as he's shoved toward the door. John smiles at him and rolls his eyes, cheeks red in the darkness. "Whatever, man. <em>Coward</em>." He steels himself and sighs, taking the last few steps forward until he can grab the knob.</p><p>He only hesitates enough to take a breath and close his eyes before pushing it open and peeking from one squinting eye before all the humor and discomfort sloughs off him in one go. "Oh." John pushes the door open, expression pinched in a different way this time. He looks to Dave, then Karkat, before stepping hesitantly into the bathroom. "You okay, dude?" He's not really sure what happened, but Dave looks overwhelmed and Karkat looks upset, and he just wants to make sure nothing happened to either of them.</p><p>If he were closer to Karkat, he'd already be beside him, arm around his shoulders, but since he's not sure if the contact would be accepted, John just hovers near him and mouths 'what happened?' at Dave.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels a - yet again childish, he was on a roll tonight - spark of frustration and flustered embarrassment at being called a coward, but it passes just as soon as it comes because it was stupid, and exactly what he was being.</p><p>He shakes it off, and steps up behind John as he moves to open the door, squinting behind his shades in case he needed to shut his eyes in light of indecency. Some of the tension leaves Dirk's shoulders at once when he sees Dave and Karkat just sitting on the floor, leaned back against the lower cabinets of the sink. Emphasis on <em>some</em> of the tension. He'd never been good at dealing with the whole crying thing. A look of puzzlement crosses his face as he looks between the two of them, settling on Dave after John asks his question.</p><p>Dave opens his mouth to respond, but Karkat cuts him off with a whine, hiding his face in the crook of his own folded arms. Dave's eyes dart between the three of them, his shades pushed up into his hair, looking a cross between concerned, panicked, and embarrassed, his pupils still blown wide from the alcohol. He points at the bathtub as he speaks, and Dirk follows his gesture to see... Roxy's cat.</p><p>Oh, god damn it.</p><p>'<em>He's, um. Sad, because he thinks Mutie is cute and I won't let him pet her since he's allergic to cats, and he'd like break out in hives or something I think.</em>'</p><p> </p><p><em>Ah.</em> So he was <em>that</em> kind of drunk. John purses his lips, glances up at Dirk for a moment to try and convey his relief that nothing had... gone wrong between them, before stepping forward to pat his hand down gently on Karkat's shoulder. "Hey man, allergies suck right?" He doesn't get much of a coherent response, but from the sound of the escalating disappointment, John doesn't think his attempt helped much.</p><p>He casts a nervous glance between the brothers, notes how Dirk still looks uncomfortable, then leans to scoop the perturbed (though not much, she'd always been a pretty laid back cat) ball of black fluff into his arms. He figures the best way to handle the situation was to remove the cause, right? Though he doesn't really want to take her anywhere - Roxy typically kept her up here so she'd not get overwhelmed with partygoers.</p><p>He scritches her behind the ear as he walks back toward the door. "I think we should probably get going." John gives Dirk a look, hoping he knew how to wrangle at the very least a startled Dave as he sits on the edge of Roxy's bed, cuddling her cat. He'll put her back in the bathroom once Karkat's out of range.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk only nods in agreement, because yeah, getting out of here was suddenly top priority. He steps out of the way to let John take the cat from the bathroom - maybe Karkat was the kind of drunk that didn't have very good object permanence - and shifts his eyes from Karkat back over to Dave.</p><p>There was a hushed back and forth between the two of them, too quiet for John to hear, before Dirk eventually tilted his head at Dave, and his brother's shoulders slumped. Dave got slowly to his feet as Dirk turned his attention to Karkat, murmuring something to him that made him lift his head. Dirk might not have had the best tact when it came to... pretty much any social interaction, but he had plenty of experience being the big brother when he needed to be, with how he and Dave grew up. Despite his discomfort with the situation as a whole, the uncomfortable tension still in his shoulders, he slipped the role on like a glove without seeming to realize it. Dave left the bathroom to sit with John on the edge of the bed, but avoids touching the cat for his boyfriend's sake.</p><p>After a few more minutes of quiet negotiating (mostly comprised of a lot of mentions of the promise of waffles and attention from Dave, if he got up off the bathroom floor) Karkat was sniffling, and getting to his feet almost gruffly with Dirk's help. Karkat wrapped his arms around himself, and Dirk gave him a pat on the shoulder as he shuffled out into Roxy's bedroom again, looking a little less like he was about to burst into tears over not getting to cuddle a cat.</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't try to listen in as he entertains Mutie, but he's starting to feel more and more like an interloper in this situation. He's glad when Dave comes out, and he bumps shoulders with his friend, not trying to encourage him to give the cat attention when it's clear he's doing it for Karkat. There's more talking from the bathroom, and John's torn between that same 'I don't fit in here' feeling, and a softer one, endeared with how well Dirk's handling the crying man in the bathroom.</p><p>He smiles gently down at the cat in his arms, trying not to think anything too affectionate because Dave was <em>right beside him</em> and he couldn't be sure the alcohol completely weakened his perception. He hopes Dave doesn't call attention to the fact that they showed up together, but that would be a bridge to cross later.</p><p>When they finally left the restroom, John quickly curls Mutie into his chest because he can already feel her start to struggle in an attempt to stare at the weird human who lost his shit over her earlier. He smiles at Dirk, that tender little ache in his chest possibly showing in his expression as John slips past the two of them and plops the cat back in the tub. He checks the water dish and refills it from the tap for good measure, rinsing it out first before dusting off the stark black fur off his clothes and shutting the bathroom door behind them. There's not much he wants to say, but blurting out 'Let's get out of here' felt callous, so he waits beside Dirk for the other two to gather themselves. "That was pretty cool."</p><p> </p><p>The tension left Dirk's shoulders, and felt himself melt a bit when he met John's eyes. The smile John gave him was warm and affectionate, and Dirk only had a split second to take it in before John was carrying Mutie back into the bathroom. He doesn't think too hard about it - John always did have that way of looking at... people, that was almost intense in how endeared it could come off. Dirk turns his eyes to the other two in the room.</p><p>Dave stands from the bed when he sees Karkat walking over, shifting a bit awkwardly before opening his arms for a hug. Karkat didn't hesitate to accept, mumbling something that sounded like an apology, but Dirk couldn't be sure from where he was standing. Dave just smiled, hugging him tighter before pulling back to look at him. He was saying something else, but Dirk's attention was pulled away when he heard John's voice from beside him. He responds quietly, sort of feeling like he was intruding on a Moment.</p><p>"What was?"</p><p> </p><p>It absolutely did feel like standing in on a moment, so John stares at his shoes to give them at least a little privacy. He laughs at Dirk's question, and he'd think the man was joking if he wasn't starting to pick up in certain things in relation to how Dirk thought of himself.</p><p>"You know. That uh. Deescalation? Doesn't seem like the right word, but I think it works. You handled it really well. I had no idea you had such a soft side, Dirk. It's sweet."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk gives him a brief look of confusion when he laughs, but it shifts to one of understanding as John speaks. Maybe accompanied by a flush of pink over his cheeks, if John squinted.</p><p>Dirk shifts awkwardly where he stood, fidgeting again - as he tended to make an inexplicable habit of doing around John - and just shrugged his shoulder. "Oh. It's no big deal." A pause, before Dirk glances over to him, from where his eyes had settled in a corner of Roxy's room. "...I can't tell if you're making fun of me or not."</p><p>Either way, it was certainly embarrassing him.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, John forgets they have company. He smirks up at Dirk, eyes narrowed. (It's not enough to make out the color over his face, however.) "Maybe a little. But only because you don't believe me." The smirk softens, and John lifts his shoulders. "I wish you did." He knows better than to press the issue though, so John glances around the room.</p><p>"Want me to clear a path outside, or are we gonna wait a bit for them to, uh. Do whatever it is they wanna do?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk searches John's eyes for a moment as he speaks, the color on his cheeks luckily not spreading. Something about those words, <em>I wish you did,</em> and the way John was looking at him had Dirk maybe wishing he did, too. He has a brief flicker of memory of their first night out together, where he had the revelation very quickly that he would do just about anything to keep John from looking dejected or disappointed. He didn't think that that had changed, despite the new boundary of their friendship. He clears his throat.</p><p>"I promised Karkat a waffle." He says, a bit louder than they'd been speaking before. It doesn't grab their attention at first, but Dirk's eyes on Dave eventually makes him realize he's being waited on, and he awkwardly pulls away from Karkat. The smile was still lingering on his face, though.</p><p> </p><p>John looks away when Dirk clears his throat; he'd had enough of <em>emotions</em> lately, thank you very much. He's not about to ruminate on that silence and what it could mean. (Right now.) The pointed callout for Karkat and his waffle brings back his laugh, and John watches as Dave finally gets the hint. "Nice. Cause I'm fucking starving, man."</p><p>It might have been only the alcohol, but the sight of that smile spread over his best friend's face makes John's chest tighten pleasantly. It was about fucking time that Dave found someone like that for himself. "Well if you guys can walk still and I don't need to carry anyone, then I'll meet you all outside!"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk can see that Dave has to practically physically restrain himself from taking John up on that offer - probably just because gay chicken flirting with John wasn't in the best taste with his still very new (and still very emotional while inebriated) boyfriend in the room. Dirk found himself wondering in the back of his mind whether his friendship with John would ever get to that level of comfort.</p><p>Instead of faux swooning at the offer to get swept off his feet, Dave just takes Karkat's hand, whether it was to steady him or 'just because,' Dirk wasn't sure - but Dirk counted himself lucky that he wouldn't have to bodily escort the two of them downstairs like toddlers. He steps up beside Dave, offering him the unopened water bottle, and turns to look at John.</p><p>"We're good. I can take it from here, since there's significantly less wrangling needed than I anticipated. You can just meet us at the restaurant, if you want."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, yeah. Cool." He doesn't know why he feels doubly disappointed. It isn't because he doesn't have to carry anybody though, and John shrugs his shoulders before giving everybody a wave. "See you guys there!" Maybe he's just moping because he doesn't have the opportunity to shove his sobriety in Dave's face to make fun of him.</p><p>John shoots one last look at Dirk before slipping out of the room. When he makes it outside he notes the air definitely has that ozone smell that means rain is on the way. He enjoys it, leaning against the doorframe a moment to breathe it in before jogging to his car. Once it's started up, he realizes he doesn't actually... know which breakfast place Dirk intends to go to, so he types out a quick text.</p><p>'so where am i meeting you?'</p><p> </p><p>'The Waffle House between Roxy's place and mine. Ten-minute drive, tops.' Dirk texts back rather quickly, because once John left the room, he decided he'd make Dave (and Karkat, for that matter) drink some of the bottled water he'd brought before chancing the stairs.</p><p>Dave takes a stupidly long time to open the bottle while Dirk texts, before eventually just cracking it open with his teeth. He lets Karkat have a drink first, asking Dirk who he's texting.</p><p>Only to follow up with why Dirk has John's number, after he responds.</p><p>Oh. Dirk falters for a moment before giving a shoddy sort of answer, that he'd gotten it earlier in the night when John had been looking for Dave, so he could text if he found him. Dave doesn't seem to doubt him, just shrugging it off and taking the bottle from Karkat before he can drain it completely. Dirk just hastily pockets his phone.</p><p> </p><p>After a quick search through the map app, John finds the place. It doesn't look like Dirk has come out yet, but that wasn't a huge deal. Hopefully the employees didn't mind him sitting in the waiting area.</p><p>Which he discovers upon arrival that they <em>did</em> mind it, and after an attempt at charmingly pleading with them, John sulks as he waits in his car instead. He'd feel guilty if he texted so soon for an eta, and he wonders why he didn't just stick around until Dirk wrangled everyone. At this rate, he'd have to walk through the weather if it decided to break after all.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk makes it down the stairs and to Dave’s car without incident somehow, Dave and Karkat in tow. Despite his reassurance to John, he still halfway expected that he’d have to give someone a piggyback, at least, to keep with the toddler wrangling theme. Though, the weirdly parental role comes back out to shine when Dave - his body seemingly remembering that it was drunk, now that he'd had a little water and wasn’t panicking over a crying boyfriend - refuses to sit shotgun, and instead wants Dirk to straight-up chauffeur while he sits with Karkat in the backseat.</p><p>Dirk doesn’t argue, because he really didn’t want to risk <em>both</em> of them pitching an incoherent fit, and just slips into the driver’s seat with a roll of his eyes. Once he ensured both of them were buckled up, he pulled out of the parallel spot on the curb, and started the short drive for Waffle House.</p><p>It’s an easy drive, though Dirk does have a momentary scare when he hears the telltale sound of kissing in the backseat - feeling even more like an awkward chaperone than he had before - and tells them to keep it in their pants, for the love of god. They listen, luckily, though not without some snickering, and he’s grateful when the car is finally parked in the dimly lit lot, a spot away from John's.</p><p>Dave and Karkat are out of the car first, barely giving Dirk a chance to shut off the engine, making a beeline for the entrance. Dave made sure to pause at John's car first, though, likely to latch onto him. Dirk pockets the keys to Dave's car and locks it behind him as he steps out onto the pavement after the two of them.</p><p> </p><p>John almost misses the shine of headlights passing through the cab of his car as he scrolls through his phone, but when a car pulls up, he smiles out the window. Dave scrambles over to greet him, but before John could even get the door open his friend chases Karkat to the entrance. He winces for a moment, remembering the disgruntled third shifters inside. This likely won't be a fun experience for them, but surely they were used to it.</p><p>John considers chasing after his friend, but its far too late to be running around in a waffle house parking lot. Instead, he sidles up to Dirk to walk with him. "So did they get downstairs easily? No distractions? No wayward pets making them cry?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watches Dave and Karkat step into the windowed building, picking a booth next to the cash register. Dirk turns his attention to John, walking alongside him at a much more reasonable pace as they approach the entrance. Dirk holds the door open for John as he speaks.</p><p>"No distractions, no accidents. They made out in the backseat. That's the extent of damage done, though."</p><p> </p><p>John smiles as he enters, muttering a soft thanks. But the smile twists up unto awkward laughter moments later. "Oh my god. I mean, I guess it could have been worse, huh? Too bad I wasn't there to be your buffer that time. Not that I'd offer; that was the most stressful door I've ever opened."</p><p>He has reservations about sitting so close to the employees - sure, it'd be easier on everyone to be nearby, but they'd also have to deal with the grumpy reactions to their drunk friends likely being loud within earshot.</p><p>Still, John slots himself into the available space and waits for the menus. "No kissing at the table," just for good measure.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way." Dirk says, and actually means it unsarcastically, for once. He didn't know what the fuck he would have done if he'd had to open that door and risk directly seeing his brother... doing something.</p><p>Dave and Karkat occupy one side of the four-person booth, of course, so Dirk slips in beside John. At John's words, he felt a kick to his shin that Dave must have been aiming for John, and earns a Look from Dirk that only warrants a shrug in return.</p><p>It takes less than 30 seconds for one of the staff to pass them two perpetually greasy laminated menus - one for each side of the table - and take their drink orders. Dave and Dirk get their respective juices, apple and orange, while Karkat takes a coke, and it doesn't take more than a minute for their drinks to reach the table either.</p><p>Dirk shifts his attention over to John as Dave and Karkat hunch over their shared menu. He figured now that he'd broken the news to Dave that he and John had, in fact, held at least one conversation, it wasn't off the table to actually talk to him in front of his brother anymore. "Should I ask what your usual order is, or should I wait to be disappointed by yet another terrible food opinion?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah! I'd say anytime, but. I'd be lying." He feels the movement and takes a moment to realize what's happening, but once he does, John huffs behind his hand. "Thanks for taking the kick for me, dude. We're even again." Not really, but it's cool. John sticks with Karkat for this one, getting a soda after considering the option of sweet tea. But tea always tastes weird at diners, so that's what wins the soda for him in the end.</p><p>When Dirk's juice arrives, he eyes it and gives him a haughty look. He feels a little strange, not sure if he wants to keep up the banter with Dave - drunk though he might be - sitting <em>right there</em>.</p><p>Apparently, Dirk doesn't have the same reservations. John shoots him another look, lips pursed, before forcefully pulling the menu toward himself. "Just for that, you can look through it last. The server will come over and stare at you because the rest of us are all ready to order and you're still looking. Fucking <em>devastating</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk only quirks his brows at John when he seemingly judges him for his OJ choice, taking a long sip. It makes it easier for John to pull the menu from under where Dirk's hand had rested on top of it. He does his best to fight back a smile, feigning a nonchalant shrug. "Smart move, using my social anxiety against me."</p><p>Dirk's eyes occasionally dart to Dave just out of habit, but he'd taken to babbling at Karkat about the last time they were here, and he blew twenty bucks on the jukebox just so he could be the only one to pick the music in the restaurant. In other words, he wasn't paying the two of them much attention.</p><p> </p><p>John snickers, but it's not a cruel sound. He pries the menu open and places it between the two of them despite his threat. "I dunno, I always get tempted to order chicken whenever I come to a breakfast place even though I <em>know</em> their lunch foods are garbage. I can't explain it. I'll probably just get a pancake combo."</p><p>Eggs also sounded good, but- "Oh fuck, I want french toast. Oh my <em>god</em>." The craving hits him hard and sudden, and John leans back against the window with the force of it. "I haven't had french toast in <em>years</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>"As long as you never act on that morbid curiosity, you can stay in the good books for now." Dirk says, shifting just slightly in his seat to look over the menu when John spreads it out. He was grateful, because the scenario John proposed would have most definitely lead to Dirk just stressfully ordering the first thing he thought of.</p><p>His eyes skim past the terrible lunch options - a burger? Seriously? - and he's debating between Canadian bacon and sausage when John suddenly has his enlightenment. "French toast? Fuck, another good choice. You're on a roll tonight, man." He jokes.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, man. I can eat whatever the heck I want. Even if it's shitty waffle house chicken." Despite knowing what he wants, the options still have John at a standstill. He could have standard powdered sugar-dusted with maple syrup, or try the fruit. Then there was the choice of the full 8 half-slices, or getting a combo with eggs and hashbrowns.</p><p>"You know, I try. Anything to impress you, Dirk." The tease is muttered offhandedly with John still too distracted as he looks over the possible sides. "Damn. Do I want their shitty bacon or their shitty potatoes?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk goes silent at the tease, his lips pursing as he scans his eyes over his side of the menu, and does his best not to get flustered. John was just joking, obviously. Dirk was still getting used to it, is all. Dirk opens his mouth to respond, but Dave does the honor for him, proclaiming that bacon is the obvious choice to pair with french toast - salty belonged with sugar, why else would people invent bacon doughnuts or dip their fries in milkshake? Also the hashbrowns were always swimming in grease and it wouldn't balance with the already heavy and rich french toast. It was a compelling argument.</p><p>Dirk takes the opportunity to tune out said argument and mentally compile his own order, canadian bacon and an apparently denounced hashbrown, with a waffle that he would probably end up picking at and not finishing. He almost considered asking John if he could just have a bite of french toast instead of buying an entire waffle, but. Boundaries.</p><p> </p><p>Dave is absolutely right, and John thanks him for the advice, waiting for everyone else to make their decisions. He glances at Dirk while waiting for the hovering staff to come over themselves - it felt rude to call for them. Someone swoops in association as the group settles, and John orders his French toast combo with extra crispy bacon and eggs scrambled hard, even if the terminology still makes him grimace.</p><p>Once their orders are out, he turns a little more toward Dirk, tucking his back into the corner of the booth so he can look at everyone together. He thinks maybe if this had happened before the thing with Dirk he'd feel... awkward. Dave would be paying attention to Karkat and he would still not know Dirk at all. They probably wouldn't have spoken other than polite acknowledgment.</p><p>Now, however, John feels like they're on equal footing. He might not be very close to Karkat yet, but he's friends with everyone here, and he can actually talk to Dirk while Dave's occupied.</p><p>John smiles over the table, taking another pull from his soda and plucking out his phone to wait for the food, or for another distraction.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk is the last to order with the way the waitress takes orders counter-clockwise - Dave first, with his plate of bacon and eggs, then Karkat with one of those giant chocolate chip waffles - John making an objectively decent order before him. He couldn't roast him over it, at least.</p><p>Dave has his phone out immediately after the waitress steps away and calls out the order, (a bit too loudly considering the griddle is quite literally ten feet away, but what does Dirk know) pulling up the app for the jukebox. Probably to show Karkat his horrendous play history at this establishment.</p><p>Dirk glances over instinctively once John turned slightly in his seat, his attention pulled from the two lovebirds (<em>eugh</em>, what?) across the table.</p><p>"What are you smiling about?"</p><p> </p><p>His smile only stretches wider, and John's knee bumps into his. "Nothing, just kind of expected you to give me shit for how I ordered my eggs. Are you one of the majority who likes them runny? Nasty." Clearly expecting an argument, John tilts his head back, the very image of smug. Right up until Dave starts talking about the jukebox.</p><p>His voice falls quiet. "God, please don't pull some Mulaney shit while we're the only ones in here. We'll definitely get kicked out." It's more to himself than anything, because he secretly kind of hopes Dave does it.</p><p> </p><p>"No, as a matter of fact. I'm part of the minority that considers runny eggs to be fucking vile. Though, I generally just don't like eggs by themselves. Same deal as milk. They should never be standalone." Dirk states matter of factly, nudging John's knee right back.</p><p>At the quiet comment, he breathes a chuckle through his nose. Dave didn’t seem to hear John, mumbling something to himself (or Karkat) about a particularly raunchy song that wasn’t allowed to be played on the jukebox anymore. Dirk takes a sip of his orange juice as he continues. “This is Waffle House, Egbert. It’s the closest a restaurant can get to a lawless wasteland, aside from maybe Chuck E. Cheese. You have to commit something close to a felony to get kicked out.”</p><p> </p><p>John darts a look over at him, mouth in a sly line before he stares at his phone again. As casual as he can in the hopes of not drawing attention, he mutters, "You liked <em>my</em> eggs." Which now he wonders if it was just Dirk being polite, but that didn't matter.</p><p>"I dunno, man. They look strict tonight. Might try some passive-aggressive ushering if we piss them off enough. Not that I blame them. Let's just hope no more spillover from Roxy's party floods in while we're still here, or they'll think we brought them."</p><p> </p><p>"I hadn't eaten anything but half of a basket of shitty nachos in 36 hours, man. Those were a rare exception." Dirk pauses for a brief moment, considering how that could have sounded. Don't insult the eggs <em>and</em> the guy, Dirk. "...They were nice, though. You're a good cook."</p><p>"And I think the staff will be fine, if -" Dirk starts, having turned just a fraction in his seat to face John proper as he talked to him, but cuts himself off when he realizes Karkat was just... staring at him. Dave was still busy with his phone, his finger too carefully tapping the screen in that inebriated way as he chose some songs to play, but Karkat didn't seem to be watching him anymore, his eyes flicking between Dirk and John. Dirk sort of expected it was just one of those awkward moments where you meet eyes over the table for no reason and then quickly look away, but. Karkat was fucking <em>fixated.</em> "What-"</p><p>"<em>Are you two dating? I can't tell, but you talk to each other like you have history.</em>"</p><p>Dave doesn't react much, just furrowing his brows as he hears the question, looking up from his phone over to Karkat. "<em>No, dude, what? They just met tonight, remember?</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, <em>you're</em> the one who wanted to dine and dash, my guy. And what the fuck why did it take that long anyway? Shit." John hopes that isn't some kind of habit. He does feel a little awkward about his cooking though - 'hunger is the best spice' or whatever. But who cares, <em>he</em> liked his eggs, dammit. "Yeah, whatever. Don't patronize me." John snorts softly, smiling until he notices Dirk's attention has shifted.</p><p>He takes the moment to get another drink from his glass, frustrated with the overabundance of ice bumping into his front teeth. They only did that to give you less actual drink, cheap bastards.</p><p>His eyes flick up, just catching the intent expression on Karkat's face and only having time to wonder 'what's his <em>deal-</em>' before he coughs quietly into his soda. It almost sends a backwash up into his throat but John has the good sense to smack his tongue against the roof of his mouth to keep from choking. His eyes snap wide, and he glances at Dirk, then back to Dave and Karkat as his ears start to glow with red.</p><p>He doesn't lower the glass. Part of him just wants to let Dirk handle this, but there was no way <em>either</em> of them could comfortably handle this without straight-up lying about meeting one another earlier. So saying nothing would just make him a coward and accomplish nothing.</p><p>John lowers the glass and says in the most casual, neutral tone he has in his arsenal(which he's used on Dirk before), "We're not dating."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't react, aside from the slight flush spreading across his cheeks. He could see John nearly choking and darting his eyes around out of the corner of his eye, so <em>one</em> of them had to physically act like they had no idea what Karkat was talking about. Dirk wasn't sure if it was obvious to the other two at the table, but the tone of John's voice had him stiffening slightly - that practiced, fake calm cadence that he used when he was hiding how he felt. He'd heard it before. Dave was looking at Dirk now, a puzzled expression on his face as Karkat continued to list off his observations (<em>You've been flirting with each other every time I tune in to your conversation.</em>).</p><p>He couldn't just <em>lie</em> to Dave's face. John probably had the right approach when it came to carefully ignoring the part about them meeting before. There was only one thing he could think of to get them to drop the subject, even though it made something in his chest twist.</p><p>Dirk simply raised a brow at him, a hint of faux incredulousness in his tone, just to drive it home. "I haven't dated since Jake. You know that."</p><p>Dave purses his lips, and seems to get the message. His free hand moves under the table, likely gripping Karkat's thigh. "<em>Hey, let's, like. Maybe not talk about this particular thing anymore?</em>" There was something unstated there, something like <em>You're making my brother uncomfortable and he very recently just got out of a dank depressive episode so I would like to not encourage that happening again</em>. Karkat shared a look with Dave for a second, then glances over to the two of them again. He drops it without much of fight, despite his curiosity obviously not being sated, his eyes dropping back down to Dave's phone where he was filling the queue with terrible meme songs. The tension breaks, and Dirk exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding.</p><p> </p><p>Ah. Well. That was one mystery unraveled. John's face tightens for a fraction of a second, but he lets it go, shoulders slowly returning to a more relaxed line instead of the gradual pulling toward his ears. He plucks a piece of ice from his cup and pushes it between his lips, needing something to chew on to distract himself.</p><p>Karkat was... perceptive. John <em>knew</em> it was a bad idea to get comfortable, but he followed Dirk's lead and let his guard down in assuming neither of the other two would pay attention to anything but each other. His chest rises and falls with a deep, steadying breath, before he takes his phone in his hand once more.</p><p>Things were... awkward now. Which sucked - wasn't he <em>just</em> thankful for how much he enjoyed their situation? John bites down on his lip, darting a look at Dirk before stretching up to try and get a better view of the kitchen. Having something to eat would be a good distraction. "Dave, christ. We're not gonna be here for that long, have <em>mercy</em> on these poor underpaid employees!"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk met John's eyes for that split second from behind his shades, still feeling that small wave of adrenaline from just barely getting out of the awkward corner Karkat had backed them into. He didn't even consider he would be so perceptive when just an hour ago he was deliriously crying over the cuteness of a cat. Dirk was... sort of impressed, in a strange way.</p><p>He didn't hold the eye contact with John now that he'd relaxed and seemed to be impatiently eyeing the kitchen for food, but Dirk was briefly worried about the question messing up John's night before he started a bit of banter with Dave. "<em>Okay meme police, no fun allowed, I get it.</em>" Dave quips, before he taps his phone to play some remix Dirk had never heard of. Music hipster. Right.</p><p>Dirk sunk a bit in his seat as he waited for their food, pulling his phone from his pocket. Maybe he'd send Roxy a text. There wasn't much he could do to join the conversation, now that he'd gotten the impression Karkat was watching him like a hawk, and anxiety bubbled up within him at resuming his typical back and forth with John. He tried not to feel disappointed.</p><p> </p><p>The night felt <em>decidedly</em> more stiff, and John resigns himself to it. He doesn't know how Dave would react to the knowledge that they went on a single date, let alone fucked (or tried to) a couple times, but he's sure that while it might not be <em>SUPER</em> negative, it'd still not be an easy bit of knowledge to process. And with Karkat's shrewd attention on the two of them every so often, their chatter would have to be put on hold.</p><p>Sure, he could pull the whole 'dude, I'm like this with <em>everyone</em>' card, but Karkat was right - there had definitely been a familiarity between them that couldn't easily be explained if they'd just met a couple of hours ago. So John laughs at Dave's reaction and his eventual music choice, and returns his attention to his phone.</p><p>Their food arrives a few minutes later, thankfully, and John makes an ungodly sound at the sight of the beautifully thick slices of puffy bread. After dumping a thin membrane of fake maple syrup over them and sliding his bacon into the puddle, he holds the bottle out to Dirk, eyebrow raised. "Or do you want one of the nasty fake-fruit syrups?"</p><p> </p><p>The awkwardness still hung thick in the air even as Dirk texted Roxy. There wasn't really a good way to come back from it, though it lightened considerably once their food had arrived. It was a better distraction than all four of them sitting on their phones, at least. Dirk couldn't help but wonder how the night would have gone if Dave and Karkat weren't here. He and John seemed to be on a roll, when it came to having actual conversations without awkward silences or discomfort.</p><p>Dirk hadn't even lifted his fork when John offered him the syrup, but Dave was already inhaling his eggs. "You have such a flagrant disrespect for Waffle House, Egbert. But of course I don't want the nasty fake fruit syrup." Dirk takes the bottle from him, pouring a good bit over his waffle that he likely wasn't going to finish. He slides the bottle back across the table to the little napkin stand next to Karkat once he was done.</p><p> </p><p>"I have the <em>utmost respect</em> for the restaurant that caters to drunk assholes every night. They just have some shitty food options." He'd love to keep going, maybe tease him about the ratio of syrup to waffle, but with Karkat doing his weird... drunk guru thing, John's hesitant to seem too close to him.</p><p>So he eats in silence for a moment, eyes darting around the table. Eventually he's brave enough to nudge Dirk's knee with his own, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the majority of the waffle house employees all standing around the cash register, watching their group closely. He leans in and mutters. "Think we've been poisoned?"</p><p> </p><p>"It doesn't have to be good when a buffet here costs under twenty dollars." Dirk takes a bite of his canadian bacon, watching Karkat absolutely smother his waffle with syrup and butter. Dave teased him for as much, to which Karkat offered him a bite to prove that it was less unholy than it looked. Dirk averted his eyes when Dave took a bite from his boyfriend's fork.</p><p>He has a distraction pretty quickly after that though, turning to look at John after his knee bumps his. Dirk matches the volume of John's low mutter, scooping hashbrowns onto his fork. "It's more likely that they're bored, and eavesdropping."</p><p> </p><p>And there's the mild discomfort he was expecting. John grimaces down at his bacon and slathers the rest of it in the syrup at the bottom of his plate. He keeps his attention solely on his side of the table while that's going on.</p><p>"Damn, that might be worse. Guess I can't blurt out all my filthy secrets now. Sorry." And once again he's slipping back into that same comfort with Dirk despite literally just getting called out for it. Why was it so <em>easy</em>? "... Man, I'm kind of a dumbass huh."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk carefully avoids the flagrant display of chaste affection on the other side of the table, and keeps his attention on John and the employees at the register. It was easy to stare back with his shades.</p><p>"You are. It's a defining character trait." Dirk doesn't hesitate to resume their banter. It was hard to resist, and it wasn't clear if he even noticed that he was doing it. He repeats the friendly bump to John's knee, if only to ensure that he's joking. John definitely wasn't a dumbass. He was smart, and funny, and held his own to Dirk's bullshitting. Dirk blinks, electing to not get lost in his own mind thinking affectionate things about his friend, and instead settles on a question. "Why do you say that?"</p><p> </p><p>John honks down at his french toast, shooting Dirk a faux glare. "Bastard." He holds his thigh against the other man's for a moment as he considers the question. "I mean. Do you want the <em>whole</em> list here, or?" What was he supposed to say? That he couldn't stop from letting his guard down around Dirk? That he's finding it harder to remember why it wouldn't be great for Dave to find out? Or how about how he'd accept another offer to be FWB with only a moment of hesitation despite knowing it'd end shitty for both of them? Yikes, John. Get your shit together, man.</p><p>"Don't worry about it. Dumbassery is my natural state, after all." He uses the back of his fork to spread the syrup over a dry bit of toast before cutting a wedge into it. "Would it be funny or awkward if we made fun of them right now?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk frowns at the response, brows furrowing. John was...deflecting. It was almost ironic justice, considering what a habit Dirk made of doing it himself. It didn't feel too good to have it reflected back at him.</p><p>He has a brief flicker of memory; the night John reached out to him after he came to visit Dave, and Dirk stupidly tried to insist he was alright despite very obviously <em>not</em> being that. It had made John exasperated with him, when Dirk had only said it to try and ease his worry. He'd been confused at first, but. It made sense now.</p><p>Dirk pulled his thigh from where it was still pressed against John's, and shifts his eyes back down to his plate as he continues to eat. "A little bit of both."</p><p>After a moment or two, Dirk continues. "...You're not a dumbass. Not actually."</p><p> </p><p>It isn't clear which part of John's quiet mumbling makes Dirk pull away, but he reassures himself that at least <em>one</em> of them can be trusted not to be stupid. He mirrors Dirk, pushing out of the corner to sit straight on, the way you were <em>supposed</em> to sit in a booth while he eats. His soda is very watered down from all the ice starting to melt, and for just a moment he's jealous of the brothers' juice.</p><p>John lifts a shoulder, mouth full of breakfast food that takes a moment to swallow. His face is a little red by the time he answers. "Uh. Thanks. But I kind of am. For... For some things, anyway." When his knee starts bouncing and knocking against the underside of the table, John stills it and sits a little higher, back rigid.</p><p> </p><p>"No." Dirk says simply. He wasn't a fan of this kind of talk from John. Not at all. Self-deprecation was <em>Dirk's</em> schtick, and it didn't look good on anyone else that he cared about.</p><p>He takes a sip of his orange juice, chancing a brief glance back up to Dave and Karkat, who were miraculously paying no attention to them. Karkat was telling some sort of story about his roommate that Dirk didn't care enough to tune into. He glanced back over to John.</p><p>"You're being too hard on yourself."</p><p> </p><p>There's yet another threat of laughter bubbling up in his chest, more out of surprise than anything. Dirk sounds so... <em>final</em> on the matter, and for some reason that's... He wants to think it's funny, but instead it's touching. John aims a little smile at him, but keeps all of his body to himself.</p><p>"I don't want to sound like a brat, but we don't actually... <em>know</em> each other that well, dude. It's sweet, but you're not fully informed on the matter." He holds the smile for a moment longer, then turns his plate to keep eating. When he spots that the syrup has spread into his eggs he grimaces and cuts a line of them along the edge, pushing the sticky sweet curds away so he can scoop up the rest.</p><p> </p><p>"I'd like to get to know you," Dirk says, stupidly, and without consideration of the way it would sound coming out of his mouth. He quickly continues, correcting himself. "You're only a dumbass when it comes to terrible opinions on food." <em>And movies,</em> if what Dirk remembers from his brief glance at John's entertainment stand back at his apartment had anything to say for it.</p><p>He finishes his canadian bacon (ham, it was ham) and pokes at his hashbrowns with his fork. He was getting full already, and he'd predictably barely touched his waffle. Maybe he could pawn it off on Dave - the guy ate like he had a bottomless stomach.</p><p> </p><p>It's not the best timing, when Dirk says it. John inhales, <em>gasps</em> even, sucking down the spoonful of eggs he'd been about to eat. He says it so casually, clearly not having any idea the effect it'll have on John and his stupid heart. John doesn't even hear the rest of what he has to say thanks to the way his pulse is pounding in his ears. And, also, he's starting to choke a little.</p><p>It's not bad enough that he needs help, but he grunts, rumbles, coughs until he forces the majority of the egg back into his mouth. He's trying to be as subtle as he can with it, but one of the waitresses takes a startled step toward him. He's red from hairline to the neck of his shirt, embarrassed and flustered and a little distressed by the time he swallows the mouthful and clears his throat to work out as much as he can.</p><p>John can't even look up, not wanting to see how many eyes are on him right now. He just grabs his glass and drinks the melted water with soda flavor, scowling into the ice as he watches it slide toward his mouth. Not even gonna offer a refill when a guy's choking, huh? He pulls a couple of the flat planes(?) into his mouth to chew, then holds a thumbs up to anyone who's looking as he pushes the remainder of the eggs around on his plate.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk immediately hears when John starts to choke beside him, his brows darting up above his shades. He wasn't grabbing at his throat with terror or anything (he mainly looked embarrassed) but Dirk still reaches out to place a hand on his back, in case he needed to perform some sort of pseudo heimlich maneuver.</p><p>John works it out quickly enough though, his face bright red, and Dirk lets his hand awkwardly drop from his back. Dave and Karkat were staring across the table at John, and a quick glance confirms that yeah, so were the employees.</p><p>Dave is the one to break the silence. "<em>Uh, can we get some water? Man's dying.</em>"</p><p>One of the waitresses hurriedly grabs a styrofoam to-go cup, filling it with water and offering a '<em>You alright, hon?</em>' as she puts it down in front of a now recovered John. Too little too late, Dirk thought, but it was still a nice gesture. Though, if the situation were reversed and he was in John's shoes, he'd likely rather disappear into the floor than linger in the attention.</p><p> </p><p>John just allows himself to breathe for a moment, staring resolutely at the table, body posture making him seem as small as he can possibly get as he covers his face with his hands. He closes his eyes and nods, ashamed and accepting of the situation when he's offered the water. Making more of a scene was kind of the last thing he wanted right now, but he's thankful for Dave, drunk as he is, for trying.</p><p>He groans, a mournful sound, leaning back slightly into Dirk's hand until he removes it, and as soon as he thinks he's not that red anymore, he finally speaks. "That sucked." John's voice is raspy and low, and he clears his throat once more before taking a deep swig of the <em>damn</em> room temperature water.</p><p>He dumps the rest of it into his glass with the ice, shooting a quiet "Thank you," to the woman who offered it, still while not looking at anyone. There's nothing to say to recover from that, so he leans back against the padded booth, head tilted to look at the fluorescent lighting in the ceiling. "So I guess I'm done for the night." His hand rustles in his pocket until he plucks out his wallet, digging through to find a few bills to cover his meal and his portion of the tip. "Turns out choking makes you tired!"</p><p> </p><p>The waitress and the other employees that were staring got back to work - if work classified as a good 75% of them just disappearing into the back room.</p><p>Dave couldn't seem to help but laugh now that he knew John was alright, Karkat simply shaking his head next to him and forking some of his drenched waffle. Dirk smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.</p><p>It was likely that John was just embarrassed, and that was why he wanted to dip out. They were all pretty much done with their food, anyway (with the exception of Karkat, who seemed to eat at a normal pace, rather than scarfing his entire plate like Dave, or picking at half of it like Dirk. But Dirk couldn't shake the impression that he'd said something wrong. Had he?</p><p>Dirk slips out of the booth so John can get out, as Dave speaks up. "<em>What, no, don't just leave because you're all embarrassed, it's fine.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>The laughter rings in his ears and only cements the blow to his pride. He's not that upset, it <em>was</em> funny, but John isn't all that into the idea of sticking around right now. He smiles up at Dirk when he makes room for him to leave, then shrugs at Dave. "Nah man, its about time to wind down. I'm kind of exhausted! You two should get some sleep soon."</p><p>He drops the money on the table - a twenty and a five - before scooting down the seat until he can stand. When he reaches the end, John holds onto Dirk's wrist gently, the contact hidden behind his body from the other two. "Thanks for inviting me. Even if it wasn't technically an invitation."</p><p> </p><p>Dave makes a dejected noise, but doesn't argue further. Dirk meets John's eyes for that brief moment that he looks at him, feeling that flip flopping sensation when he smiles at him. He really needed to deal with that.</p><p>All the worry that had started to bubble up within Dirk was snuffed out quickly when John took his wrist. He offered a brief upturn of his lips in response. He didn't make smiling much of a habit, but John was one of a few people that had this inexplicable way of wrangling it out of him.</p><p>"Yeah, man. Thanks for helping me watch out for those two." Dirk pauses for a moment. "I'll see you later?"</p><p> </p><p>His thumb slides up over the bone in Dirk's wrist before he releases him. John's getting a little greedy with all these little smiles - he doesn't even know it's uncommon. "Yeah. <em>Anytime</em>." He wets his lips, shuffles his feet, then returns the smile; "I'd really like to get to know you, too."</p><p>A kiss on the cheek was tempting, but John had been risky enough tonight. He drops Dirk's arm, waves at the table, and denies the offer of a box for the remains of his meal as he rounds the corner to head outside.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels a prickly sensation up his arm as John's thumb brushes his wrist bone, an achy flutter in his chest at his words. Something clicks in the back of Dirk's mind, and realizes all at once that it wasn't too far fetched for Karkat to believe that they might have been dating, with the way they acted.</p><p>Dirk was being too much, too fast. He had been acting so eager at the thought of restoring a friendship with John, that he couldn't help but notice it now. But John was doing it too. He was playing along with every joke and tease Dirk had aimed his way, and even now, he was returning his offer to spend more time together (despite the fact that it lacked a lot of tact, the way that Dirk put it.)</p><p>There was still a lot they needed to talk about, at some point, probably. But they were okay now, he thought. And it eased a heavy weight in his chest that he didn't know he was carrying.</p><p>He struggled to get the smile off his face as he sat back down, even if he could feel Dave's eyes on him. So what if he was cheesing a little. Dirk hadn't <em>completely</em> magnificently fucked up an interpersonal relationship for good. That was worth a smile, he thought.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's gonna get messy.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A falling out.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm keeping this one very short, because it has a big impact. I'll see if I can find a way to post the rest somewhere else, maybe break the chapters up a little more. This one may be more riddled with errors than usual- my pc went kaput and it's... pretty frustrating copying this all over on mobile. Almost as annoying as roleplaying on mobile is! But we finally finished the full scene and have moved on to the next, so here it is! I also can't seem to add new tags unless they're in the drop-down, because my enter key becomes a 'next', so whoops.</p><p>Edit: Good news! I've learned that tagging works on my phone! So I'll update from my tablet then update tags as necessary from my phone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the party at Roxy's, Dirk seemed happier. It was a stark contrast to that depressive spiral his attitude had suddenly taken after the...whatever, with Jake. (Dave still wasn't clear on that, but if Dirk wasn't telling, Dave wasn't asking - he finally seemed to be <em>over</em> that douche, so any chance Dave had to avoid reminding him of it, he would take it.) He was working more without running himself ragged, and implemented his ridiculous self care methods back into his regular routine. Dave lamented at the loss of his own hot showers, but it was worth it to see Dirk doing something other than shuffling around the apartment stinking of weed and hating himself every night.</p><p>It was a Saturday a lot like the ones before Dirk hit rock bottom - Dave getting his ass handed to him by Dirk in Tekken over a coffee table full of snacks and soda -when he decided to fuck with Dirk's phone.</p><p>Dirk had to cut their gaming session short when he remembered he had a package to drop off at the post office, something about a commission that <em>couldn't</em> be late, and a motherboard... Dave couldn't really hear many of the details considering Dirk immediately became a flurry of stressed movement when he realized his mistake, mumbling to himself and partly to Dave. He didn't even change out of his stupid cartoon horse pajamas before he was grabbing his keys and practically flying out the door with the small box - forgetting his phone on the couch in his rush.</p><p>It was a perfect opportunity for pranking. John would be proud of him, he thought. Dave took Dirk's phone and unlocked it, downloading some shitty pseudo-virus app Roxy had told him about that would fill Dirk's camera roll to the brim with an image of his choice. Dave picked a fitting SBAHJ panel that he'd created forever ago, and let the app do its magic. He uninstalled the app quickly after, once the phone angrily informed him that there was no more storage space left, and opened the camera roll to inspect the damage.</p><p>Dirk didn't have a lot of pictures on his phone, so it took Dave a good 2 minutes of scrolling to reach anything that <em>wasn't</em> an jpeg artifact heavy mess of neon and scribbles drawn with Dave's nondominant hand. He tapped on the first real picture he could manage to on the still rapidly scrolling screen, and chuckled to himself when the picture was revealed to be a saved Snapchat memory of Dirk and Roxy in matching kigurumi onesies that she'd bought him for his last birthday. Dave flicked his thumb idly across the screen, expecting to see more saved memories that he could easily tease Dirk over - the guy was so cagey and sensitive when it came to being sentimental.</p><p>What he wasn't expecting to see was a dark, blurry picture of his clearly wasted brother passed out. Dave stared down at the image with furrowed brows, the smile fading off of his face. The cogs in his brain turned as he examined it. And for reasons he didn't quite understand yet, a coldness seeped into his blood. His thumb hesitated over the screen for a long moment as he tried to deal with the implications of what he'd just seen. When he finally flicked to the next, something within him sank and shattered. Normally he might have revolted at the sight of Dirk naked, but it wasn't his dick he was focused on. It was the face next to it.</p><p>Dave felt a swell of disgust and anger as he scrolled through the pictures (skipping the video just to spare himself further eye bleaching later), his aversion to the sight of Dirk's dick in the pictures overpowered by the anger at the smug face starring in them.</p><p>Dave closed the last picture of Dirk's stomach and checked the dates on the photos, finding them much further back than he'd expected - months ago now. Months that Dave had spent on his very couch with John. He could have been sick, at the realization.</p><p>His hands were shaking as he dropped Dirk's phone in favor of yanking out his own, pulling up his most recent contacts, and almost tapping the call button under John's name, before thinking better of it, and opening his messaging app instead. He didn't want to hear his voice right now.</p><p>'were you planning on explaining to me why there are a series of pictures on dirks phone of you taking advantage of him or was i just supposed to find out myself'</p><p> </p><p>Despite the... embarrassing end to the party outing, John was feeling good. It was fun to have that little bit of ammo against Karkat; he, of course, refused to believe he'd gotten so out of his mind about not being able to pet a cat, but that didn't stop John from the relentless teasing of him and his name afterward. There was also the whole... subtly growing closeness he had with Dirk - a much healthier build on their foundation together.</p><p>He isn't sure where it's going to end up, or even where it's leading. There was no denying his continued attraction to Dirk, but now it was more about the little things he was still noticing. Little indications (or sometimes not-so-little) of his personality slipping out of that wall he kept around himself. He smiled a lot more than John would have expected when hearing about him from Dave.</p><p>The next weekend, while he always enjoyed some time to himself, John kind of felt like a little company. Saturday was for the boys, and he's pretty sure the brothers are spending time together this week, but he considers texting Dave and asking if he wanted to do something small tomorrow, go out for lunch or something. He doesn't wanna get in the way if he has a date planned with Karkat, but as John weighs his options Dave beats him to the punch.</p><p>He smiles as he spots the text notification popping up on his screen, grabbing his phone off the table and spreading out on his back along the couch as he reads it.</p><p>It doesn't sink in at first, and John looks it over a second, then third time, his face slowly pinching and stretching in anxiety. He sits slowly, reading it one more time. "Oh, <em>fuck.</em>" John's breath catches in his chest, and his stomach twists into knots. <em>Had Dirk said something?</em> ... No, Dave wouldn't have worded it that way if Dirk told him. Did Dirk even <em>know</em> Dave had found out? - Wait, no, this wasn't what was important right now.</p><p>His thumbs hover over the screen for a moment before he drops his phone on the couch cushion to stand and pace around his apartment. He doesn't know what to say, especially not over text, but John doesn't think he has the courage to call him. The longer the time stretches on without replying, the worse John feels. Sure, maybe ten, twenty minutes could be excused for not seeing it, but now that it's passed that threshold, it just looks like avoidance. Which felt worse than saying something stupid.</p><p>Time went a lot faster through his cold panic and pacing; by the time he finally brings the message back up (feeling that gut-wrenching fear all over again) it's been almost forty-five minutes.</p><p>Explaining that he was drunk was a terrible excuse. Asking how he found out felt like a guilty deflection. Only apologizing felt like a cop-out. John makes a tight, upset sound in the back of his throat, the corners of his eyes starting to water, and he feels that burn in his nose that indicates tears are forthcoming. He felt like he was going to puke.</p><p>'i'm sorry. it was at a party and i didn't think it would be bad at the time until i sobered up and remembered it. we already talked about it.'</p><p> </p><p>As the minutes pass, the anger only grows hotter inside of Dave. He retreats to his room after ten minutes in case of Dirk returning, because Dave really wasn't in the fucking mood for Tekken right now, and there was no way he would be able to look Dirk in the face right now without completely crumbling.</p><p>Dave is pacing in his room behind a locked door, scrolling back through his texts with Dirk to see if there were any warning signs he was missing, when he gets the response from John almost an hour later. Dave's expression only hardens as he reads it - once, twice, three times, until he loses count.</p><p>Dirk <em>knows</em>. Dirk knows, and John has somehow gone without getting his face smashed with the business end of his fist. It only makes Dave angrier.</p><p>'you "didnt think it would be bad"???</p><p>you sexually fucking assaulted my brother when he was drunk</p><p>literally what in that goddamn thick ass head of yours would make you ever think that shit is okay sober or no</p><p>but okay """"<em>you already talked about it</em>"""" so i guess ill just pretend i never saw this shit and move on right'</p><p> </p><p>John's experiencing a strange sensation where the surface of his skin feels like he's burning, but his insides feel like ice. His mind - even before Dave's messages come in - starts to feel a little floaty, and it considers the strangeness of it while the rest of him is still in full crisis mode.</p><p>His phone pings once, then twice, and John waits it out, staring at the carpet until no more come in, then he waits a little longer, almost afraid of his phone as he picks it back up. His fingers squeeze around the sides, and it's the only thing he really feels at that moment.</p><p>'i guess i wasn't thinking at all.'</p><p>Deep somewhere inside him, John urges himself to keep typing, keep trying to fix this, insist that <em>he tried</em>, but his eyes have gone a little blank, a little glassy, and he just works the edges of his phone harder against the stretched skin between his thumb and index finger.</p><p> </p><p>'no you werent'</p><p>Dave responds immediately, but his next messages take a while to make their way from his head down to the keyboard. He heard Dirk coming back faintly from the other room, but it was late enough that he probably assumed Dave had just gone to bed, because he didn't hear a knock on his door. Just knowing Dirk was in the other room now made some of his nausea return.</p><p>A lot of things had started to make a lot more sense. Particularly, why Dirk and John had seemed so weirdly close at the party last week. Now, in retrospect, even if Dave was drunk, he'd have to have been a fucking idiot to believe that they didn't know each other before that night.</p><p>'listen</p><p>i dont know what kind of bullshit youre pulling with dirk thats kept him from kicking your ass somehow in the aftermath of this and i dont care</p><p>i saw how you were acting with him after the party at roxys last week</p><p>i know he can be an aloof dickhead sometimes so you might think you can fuck around with him without it mattering or you having to deal with the consequences of your own shitty actions</p><p>but he has feelings and he doesnt fucking deserve to be jerked around like this</p><p>so whatever youre trying to do i suggest you stop</p><p>and lose my number while youre at it'</p><p> </p><p>John's chest feels tight, and he sets the phone down after that first message, returning to his previous pacing. It's aimless now, just a way to keep his body moving while his mind decides if it wants to be here for this or not. He doesn't look at his phone again for a while, but when he does, that cold dread turns into sharp icy panic - he deserved to be yelled at, to be beaten up, he deserved Dirk hating him - which John still can't believe he doesn't - but he <em>can't</em> lose Dave from this.</p><p>It snaps things back into terrified, crystal clear focus.</p><p>'dave, please! i wanted to make it up to him somehow, but things got complicated. i fucked up! i know i did! but i didn't ever want to do anything malicious or cruel, i'm sorry!'</p><p> </p><p>'if you had any respect for him youd understand youre not trying to make it up to him</p><p>youre trying to make it up to yourself</p><p>i thought you were better than this shit'</p><p>It's all Dave leaves him with before he's closing the chat. He doesn't block John's number, simply switching his phone on silent. He almost considers having that be the end of it, but now that the molten core of his anger has mostly simmered out into something more bearable after the end of his conversation with John, he can recognize that there's pretty much no way he can just ignore what he'd seen.</p><p>He needs to talk to Dirk.</p><p> </p><p>John can't respond after reading the next few lines of text. He's too hung up on wondering if Dave's right. He <em>knows</em> he did a terrible thing, beyond terrible, and he <em>knows</em> he wants to make it up to Dirk, but he can't help but ask if he's just being selfish. He likes Dirk a lot, and maybe the easy forgiveness only confused the situation further. John still felt like there was... penance to be paid, but Dirk just kept... telling him it was fine, that he trusted John even after what happened.</p><p>So he just let it fade into the background, choosing instead to enjoy Dirk's company. But he probably shouldn't have gotten too comfortable after all.</p><p>He's so wound up in his own thoughts that he forgets to respond to Dave, but he doubts Dave wanted to hear from him right now anyway.</p><p>It's still early in the evening, but John's tired. He slips into bed, still in his jeans, and doesn't actually sleep for a long time, staring at the bedclothes.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was in his room, sprawled out on his bed as he went about ridding his phone of the sudden influx of pictures that had reduced his device to the equivalent of a brick running on dial-up internet. He sat up when he heard the knock on his doorframe and the creak of the hinges as it opened, leveling Dave with an accusatory glare, good natured as it was, and opens his mouth to let him have it. But, he schooled his expression when he saw Dave's face, his brows pulling into a furrow.</p><p>"Hey... what's wrong?"</p><p>Then, Dave drops the question onto him like a ton of bricks.</p><p>Fuck, the pictures. <em>The pictures</em> were still in his camera roll, which Dave had very much just been in for a prank, and he was giving Dirk this <em>look</em> like he was caught somewhere between yelling at him and bursting into tears, reeking of disappointment and concern. Something tight balled itself up in Dirk's chest, and when Dave let himself in, joining him on the bed, that look was the straw that broke Dirk's back.</p><p>He told him everything. Every sordid detail, minus a few salacious ones, and Dave sat with him. He listened carefully, reacting a few times with disgust at first that made Dirk's insides curl childishly with shame. Despite what Dave might have been expecting, Dirk put quite the effort into defending John, and it alighted some fire within Dave that had them arguing about Dirk's lack of basic self respect. Dirk only managed to agree to disagree with him by reminding Dave that he <em>knew</em> John - and John wasn't a bad person at heart. Dirk didn't mention that John was likely tearing himself apart over this, because he knew it would only serve to ignite Dave's anger again.</p><p>By the end, Dave was rubbing at tired eyes behind his shades, all emotion but <em>pity</em> scrubbed from his face. It made Dirk want to be sick, having Dave worry about him like this - especially so now that there was no hiding from it all.</p><p>"<em>Dirk, I love you, but you're such a fucking idiot sometimes.</em>"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please let me know if you'd like rapid-fire short chapters or bigger ones spaced out a little more! The shorter ones would be easier for me to update from mobile, but I'm a little hesitant on breaking up the scenes!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ngl I cannot think of a summary to use that follows the dumb weird theme I've used up until this point so I'm not setting one. </p><p>Since I had a little scare earlier when the site went down and I was worried chats would be cleared or something (I've been paranoid after losing literally everything off the pc) I thought I would get this scene posted asap. It's another long, soft one. Once again I apologize for typos - pasting everything over on mobile takes very long and I dont have the energy to proofread.</p><p>This chapter includes a pretty hefty discussion of what happened between them, as well as a very brief mention of some heavy depression.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He must have slept at some point, despite feeling like he didn't get any rest at all, because there are gaps in his memory and John doesn't remember the sun rising. He wakes in the same position he's spent the entire night in - curled loosely on one side with his back to the door - and his pants are uncomfortably clinging to sweaty hips, the button digging into his belly.</p><p>Still, he doesn't leave the bed. John thinks he's earned some self loathing and depression after losing his best friend over something extraordinarily stupid he did. Dirk forgave him too easily; something had to go wrong. God, he'd have <em>preferred</em> to get his ass kicked and never have spoken to Dirk over this, but that still would have probably ended with Dave finding out and hating him. There really was no good outcome. Not one that was worth it, anyway.</p><p>His phone goes off, just barely audible from the livingroom, and the brief flicker of hope that it might be Dave almost pulls him out of bed. But John only manages to lift himself into a sitting position, legs hanging over the side of the mattress, when he realizes there's no way it'd be good news. Not after he couldn't even respond last night. John pushes his fingers back into his hair, slowly curls back into the blankets, and tries to ignore what feels like a heavy load of thumbtacks tumbling around in his belly.</p><p>Another indiscernible stretch of time passes when there's a knock at the front door. John considers ignoring that as well, but the possibility of it being something important (his phone, <em>then</em> the door? Maybe it was his dad, or his landlord) drags him to his feet. The weight in his gut shifts, and he still feels like he might vomit, but John does his best to not look totally fucked up as he drags his feet across the apartment.</p><p>It's not very effective; his expression is neutral, but he's gaunt, eyes glassy and red-rimmed, bloodshot from the lack of any actual rest and the inability to cry thanks to the shock. When he opens the door, it takes him a moment to register who he's seeing; when he does he takes a startled step back. His hand twitches, reflexively trying to shut the door again, and the thumbtacks crawl up into his throat.</p><p>"Dirk."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's eyes dart up from where they'd been fixed on the floor, listening carefully for any noise he could hear from behind the door. The lack of response from John earlier in the day had Dirk worked up into a fit of worry that he didn't think it wise to share with Dave - he was still angry over everything, considering the way he left for Karkat's this morning without much of a word.</p><p>Despite himself, Dirk couldn't let that concern go. So he changed out of his MLP pajamas and left for John's place, without even styling his hair, or...much of anything, really. He knew that Dave was right, and something had to be seriously wrong with Dirk for letting John off the hook so easily. But what's done is done. He'd forgiven John, and he was still his friend. Dirk could lament over the psychological ramifications of his actions all he wanted - Dirk was fucked up and he knew it, there was no point in beating a dead horse - but nothing would change that fact now.</p><p>But now that John was in front of him again, the memory of how they'd 'met' that night fresh once again in his mind, he couldn't help but feel a prickle of discomfort. If only for John's sake. He looked like he hadn't slept at all.</p><p>"You didn't answer your phone." Dirk states simply. "Dave told me what happened."</p><p> </p><p>In the very back of his mind, John notices, even <em>enjoys</em> that soft unstyled hair, but it's behind layers of the muck that his brain is currently slogging through. He flinches when Dave's name is mentioned, but otherwise keeps his blank(but wavering) expression.</p><p>"...Yeah. I was in bed." It comes out much more harsh than he intends, and John feels even worse for being bitter - this was no one's fault but his own. He hovers in his doorway, no longer able to look the other man in the eye as he shuffles his feet and stares at the door across the hall. It occurs to him that he should keep talking, maybe ask if Dirk wanted anything, or if he himself was okay after Dave spoke to him. But John just wants to close the door and go back to bed. As it is, the door is still only half-open, John peering out of it like a distrustful hermit.</p><p>"I'm... Gonna go. If that's all?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk frowns at the harsh tone, and should have taken it as the warning sign it was for him to leave John alone. Dirk had always had issues with being overbearing, when it came to people he... cared about. Most of the time he wasn't even aware he was doing it, until it was too late, and he'd been pushed away.</p><p>This was one of those times. The only thing Dirk could focus on was getting in that apartment and talking to John. Because John was clearly not okay. Maybe that was selfish of him, to put his own desire to help John (<em>Fix him,</em> he thought, because that had always really been what it was, wasn't it? Dirk was no altruist.) over the privacy he was asking for. Dirk denied himself the opportunity to think too hard about it right now. Instead, he just continued, resting his hand on the door, as if to catch it in case John decided to slam it in his face.</p><p>"Can I come in?"</p><p> </p><p>The strange parallel of their positions from that night John slept over doesn't escape him. And if he were any less dispirited maybe John would have been more difficult and closed off to show Dirk what being on the other side felt like. Right now, he just wanted to try and get some more rest, or at least just go back to nothing. But Dirk's hand on the door got in the way of that option.</p><p>A few seconds pass after Dirk asks, and John realizes his teeth are clenched. He doesn't <em>want</em> to push Dirk away, but somewhere last night he'd come to subconsciously associate closeness with Dirk to mean distance with Dave, and that wasn't a trade he wanted to make. But he has just enough rational thought left to understand that isn't the case.</p><p>He stretches his jaw, scowls at their feet, and steps aside.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watches John carefully from behind his shades as he seems to consider the option, and the tension in John's jaw makes him brace his hand a little more firmly on the door, because he gets the impression it's about to slam in his face.</p><p>But then John steps aside, and the line of tension in Dirk's shoulders seems to relax.</p><p>Dirk accepts the silent invitation and brushes past John to enter his apartment. Though, now that he's gotten what he asked for, he isn't exactly sure where to go from here. He turns to face John from where he stands in the living room, shifting his weight a bit.</p><p>"...Do you want to talk about it?"</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't bother watching Dirk enter his apartment; John slowly closes his door and stares at the cheap lacquered wood for a little bit longer. God. Even just yesterday he'd have been jazzed to have Dirk over to talk. John's face pinches up, stuck between upset and hurt as he finally turns toward him.</p><p>He fiddles with his shirt, trying to smooth out the wrinkles uselessly. "You already talked to Dave." John hears the crack in his voice, and hopes Dirk is a decent enough guy not to point it out. (He's sure he is; he's just being dramatic.) "I don't think there's anything else to talk about?"</p><p>Not with Dirk, anyway. "He's right."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't move from where he stood, not wanting to breach John's personal space. He'd wager a guess that John wasn't at all ready for that sort of thing. "You're upset. There's a lot to talk about." He says, the <em>if, then</em> that was left out of that statement was present in his tone, instead.</p><p>There was a moment's pause, Dirk's head tipping just slightly. He doesn't deny what John declares, but he doesn't agree, either. Dirk hadn't gotten the full transcript of what Dave had said to John, but he could wager a guess as to what he was 'right' about. He's still looking at John, careful to gauge his reaction to what he says.</p><p>"You're not a bad person, John."</p><p> </p><p>"There's <em>nothing else</em> to talk about." There wasn't. He did something terrible and Dave found out, and now Dave hates him. For good reason. What good would talking about it do? John grinds his teeth together, feeling his eyes prickle with welling tears. Why was Dirk even <em>here</em>?</p><p>He tells John that he isn't bad, and his face crumples. The guilt already starts to dwindle until John claws into it, tearing it back. He doesn't deserve to be so easily forgiven for this. "Do you even know what a bad person <em>is</em>, Dirk? Cause I'm pretty fucking sure a good person wouldn't- wouldn't..."</p><p>John sucks in a sharp breath through clenched teeth, hands flying up to fist in his hair. "A good person wouldn't fucking <em>rape</em> someone, Dirk!" His eyes go a little wild when he spits the word out, panic and hatred twisting in his chest. He squeezes his palms over his temples, glasses tilting and being pushed up his forehead, but he can't really see anyway.</p><p><em>Listen to yourself,</em> a vicious little voice sounds in his head. <em>You're sounding like the victim here.</em> <strong><em>Disgusting.</em></strong></p><p>"I'm- fuck... why are you <em>here</em>, Dirk?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk does a fairly good job of keeping calm in the face of John's vicious anger at himself, but he can't help but flinch at the word. Rape. His eyes drop from John's to the floor beneath his feet.</p><p>He'd never brought himself to really think of it that way.</p><p>He's still struck silent as John gives him the question, having realized quickly that what he said was only making John feel worse. Telling John what he wanted to hear and what he needed to hear were two very different things. Besides, saying what he wanted to hear - that Dirk hadn't even dwelled on what happened - was what got them here in the first place, wasn't it?</p><p>So, he didn't claim to forgive him. He didn't try to reassure him, despite wanting to fall into instinct and reach over, taking John's wrists to prevent him from clawing at the hateful voice in his head making him say all these things. He didn't explain why he was here to see John - why he'd seemed to inexplicably let bygones be bygones when it came to that night. This wasn't about him right now. He gave John honesty.</p><p>"...John, what you did was fucking shitty. I'm not going to claim that it isn't, and I'm not going to claim that there's some miraculous way to twist the situation into moral greyness and allow you avoid the blame for it, painting you as some machiavellian asshole in the process. There's something inside you that made you think it was okay at the time, so you did what you did, inexcusably, whether you were drunk or not." It seems like it was all Dirk had to say, at first, because the silence that followed was long. Eventually, he continues.</p><p>"You have to forgive yourself for it."</p><p> </p><p>He'd never had the courage to call it that, even in his own mind. So saying it aloud so suddenly leaves John reeling. In the time it takes Dirk to get his thoughts together and start speaking, John's already mentally gone through several rapid-fire situations he believes he deserves. His hands start to shake where they're still curling into his hair, scratching over his scalp, and Dirk's voice is enough to startle him when he finally speaks.</p><p>John stares at him, vision blurry from more than just nearsightedness, and his mouth curls down sharply at the corners as he listens. He starts to feel marginally better-but-worse while Dirk lays it out for him, and the bitter self-hatred he's clinging to starts to fade into something more resigned. The welling tears finally spill over, and John slides his hands forward, clinging to the arm of his glasses with the last two fingers on his right hand as he presses the heels of his palms against his eyes.</p><p>He breathes out an almost-laugh even though being called machiavellian isn't exactly a funny thing, and it twists into a mournful keening sound instead. His fingertips press into his hairline, nails scraping anxiously, and John hates that he's the one starting to cry in this situation. Like he was the one who got hurt. <em>Stupid. Selfish.</em></p><p>"I don't <em>deserve</em> it."</p><p> </p><p>Something in Dirk's chest twists, because the sight of John crying was one of those sights that just wasn't right - that could strike a man with instant grief, and determination to do anything to just make it stop. In this case that man was Dirk, with his bleeding heart.</p><p>He took the risk of taking a small step forward, resting one of his hands on John's elbow, as if to test the waters and see if John would pull away.</p><p>"You owe it to yourself, whether you think so or not."</p><p> </p><p>The touch on his elbow doesn't make him recoil, but he does flinch and shrink in on himself. He can't believe this is how it's working out - Dirk shouldn't be trying to comfort him after what happened! But the knowledge that he <em>was</em> makes John's heart ache. He doesn't even realize he's leaning toward Dirk, seeking more solace despite hating himself for wanting it.</p><p>"I don't owe myself anything, jesus. Why did you let me get away with it?" He doesn't move his hands from where they are, as badly as he wants to wipe his eyes dry.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's hand slides up from John's elbow to his wrist, his other carefully mirroring it. He gently pulls John's hands away from his head, but doesn't let go of his hold on him. Dirk briefly considers reaching to brush the tears from John's cheeks, but stops himself because... well, that was a little too intimate, and he was worried that John might possibly flip the fuck out at the gesture, considering he looked tortured just from allowing Dirk to take his wrists.</p><p>"I don't think I let you <em>get away</em> with anything, I..." Dirk starts, but trails off just as quick. He remembers his conversation with Dave the night before, and how angry he'd been at the way Dirk had handled things. He felt that shame reintroducing itself all over again. He wasn't sure if telling John his genuine thought process was the best idea. "This isn't about me right now. I came here because I wanted to help."</p><p> </p><p>He keeps his eyes closed, even as he feels his hands gently being lowered. The cool air hits the wet skin of his face, and John makes an aborted movement of trying to wipe them on one of his shoulders. When his dirty shirt only rubs at the outer corner of his eye, he gives up on that. This was kind of <em>humiliating</em>, and he clenches his fist around the arm of his glasses to have something to focus on other than the shame of being seen crying over something terrible he did in front of the very person to which he did it.</p><p>He scoffs quietly, lips pursed as Dirk denies it, and John remembers how Dirk was so quick to act like his handling of an upset Karkat wasn't anything important. It makes him feel worse, because he's starting to realize that Dirk <em>really doesn't</em> think John deserves to hold onto this. Not because, he assumes, Dirk believes that John's a good person, but because Dirk doesn't care that it happened to him.</p><p>It's enough to pull John out of the pool of self-loathing and self-pity if only for a moment. He finally opens his eyes, feeling as though he's been dropped into a pit of ice water as he squints up at Dirk. "You... this is <em>all</em> about you, Dirk! You never- god..." His first reaction to finding out what John did was to ask him to come over and do it again. He called himself a <em>masochist</em> for fucks sake! And John just went along with it like some happy-go-lucky bastard, glad he didn't get socked in the face when he deserved it. "<em>Dirk</em>... you should hate me!"</p><p> </p><p>"Christ, John, don't you think I know that?" Dirk says, but any anger or frustration that might have been fitting to accompany those words wasn't there, resignation in its place. Dirk had never been upset about what happened. And he had a feeling that John was having that realization, just as Dave had last night.</p><p>"I'd rather not talk about it. I doubt you'd be particularly ecstatic to hear anything I have to say, even if I had the mental capacity to formulate it into something more than nonsensical bullshit." Dirk says. He knew John hated it when he deflected like this, but for once, Dirk wasn't performing these conversational acrobatics to spare John from his circus tent's worth of baggage.</p><p>He didn't know how to explain himself.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever guilt, hatred, <em>anger</em> John was holding onto slips into the background; it's replaced with sorrow and pity (though he suspects Dirk wouldn't like to hear about that). The tightness in his expression falls away as he stares at the blurred shape of Dirk's face; that burning sensation returns to his nose, renewing the layer of wetness in his eyes.</p><p>John pulls his arms away, twisting them to break Dirk's loose hold before he tosses his glasses toward his counter. He doesn't bother looking where they landed - as long as no one steps on them, it didn't matter - before he winds his arms behind Dirk's back, pulling them together. It kind of negates the point of comforting someone when you're so much shorter than them, but John does his best, holding Dirk and pressing his wet cheek to his chest.</p><p>"I'm so fucking sorry..."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watches as John's expression crumples, the anger bleeding out of him and getting replaced with something a lot more solemn. He was starting to cry again, and Dirk's heart was aching to stop it, but John suddenly pulled away from him.</p><p>It was so abrupt that Dirk didn't have the chance to think of resisting when John twisted his wrists away and tosses his glasses aside (still making Dirk wince just as much as the first time he'd seen him do it, it was a wonder they weren't broken), and was just starting to take a step back when John pulled him into a hug.</p><p>It took a moment or two for Dirk's short circuiting brain to catch up to the display of affection. He was uncomfortably stiff, but as the seconds slipped by, Dirk began to relax. Eventually, he was wrapping his arms right back around John, cheek resting on top of his head and knocking his shades slightly askew.</p><p>"...I know."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk clearly didn't expect it, judging by how tense he is in John's arms. But he doesn't let go, won't stop holding him unless Dirk tries to pull away. And Dirk doesn't; he slowly softens into the embrace, eventually returning the gesture, and John's heart twists. His fingers dig loosely into the back of Dirk's top, tugging at it.</p><p>"God... <em>God</em>, Dirk... you-" John pinches his eyes shut, and he buries his face in his chest for just a moment. "You deserve better." They'd come full circle, apparently, because John is hit hard with the memory of Dirk saying those exact words to him. But instead of it being an apology for an awkward slip-up, this is meant for Dirk to... he doesn't know. To value himself more? That sounded pretentious.</p><p>"Okay? You really do."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was very uncomfortable with this turn of events. What was he supposed to say to that? The ambiguous validity of it notwithstanding, having a Talk about this wasn't exactly part of his game plan. As if he even had one in the first place, that was more in depth than: Make John feel better, text Dave and make sure he was alright, maybe Karkat as a backup plan, if he got no response.</p><p>But instead, right now it felt like John was holding <em>him,</em> rather than the other way around. This wasn't how it went in Dirk's head. But it never did with John, did it? With John, the walls Dirk kept up to distance himself might as well have been constructed with burning toothpicks.</p><p>Eventually, Dirk brings himself to speak up.</p><p>"Stop feeling sorry for me. I knew what I was doing when I let it go."</p><p> </p><p>He can feel that tension return, and John grinds his teeth together in frustration. He didn't want to be the one who was coddled, here! He fucked up and he needed to pay for it while doing whatever he could to make Dirk feel better in the process. But apparently he was fucking that up too.</p><p>John fills his lungs, breath sounding a little congested from the tears as he steps back and away from Dirk. He shakes his head, finally wipes his eyes, and stares at the floor. "Sure, Dirk."</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't the first time that Dirk felt regret for pushing John away. It was old news that Dirk had a natural instinct to avoid any topic of conversation that veered too close to a small, sensitive part inside of him that he kept guarded neurotically. Sometimes he didn't understand himself why he couldn't talk about certain things. But it was what he knew to do, and what kept him safe. And despite the guilt, he knew keeping a part of him always at arms length would be for the best, in the end.</p><p>(<em>Right?</em>)</p><p>He changes the subject, to something else he knew was surely bothering John.</p><p>"Dave just needs some time. I think you both do."</p><p> </p><p>His head twists again, more forcefully this time. "What the fuck will <em>time</em> do to fix this?" John wishes he hadn't pulled away, wanting the comfort for himself this time. But it felt selfish and right now John wasn't really into the idea of letting himself have anything he wants.</p><p>"Dave hates me. He's the one taking this situation like a normal person." He winces as soon as the words are out, but it's too late. "M... Maybe he's got the right idea." There's a strange sensation, an unpleasant electricity rolling up his chest and throat. "I like you a lot, Dirk."</p><p> </p><p>The words - <em>like a normal person</em> - isolate out from the rest and needle Dirk in a place a bit more tender than the rest, but he doesn't react visibly, aside from turning his head just slightly to look at the wall and avert his eyes. It wasn't as if he ever attempted to fool himself into thinking he was normal anyway, whatever that meant in this context. He was deeply, constantly aware of the fact that he very much wasn't, and it was entirely his burden to bear. Nothing new. He brushes his overreaction aside.</p><p>The last confession was something else Dirk already knew, but it draws his eyes back down to John instead. He still wasn't looking at him. Dirk reaches up to adjust his shades on his face, despite the fact that they were perfectly straight already, subtly fidgeting, if only because he didn't understand where it was coming from.</p><p>"I like you too."</p><p> </p><p>John presses his fingertips against his eyes, taking several slow, even breaths to try and ground himself. His heart lurches when Dirk affirms his affection, but it only makes John feel worse. He pushes harder until he starts to see static. "<em>Fuck.</em> So you know that uh."</p><p>What was he trying to say? Teeth scrape roughly over his lower lip, and John steps backward to lean against the door. "Goddamn it. I'm trying to tell you to leave, but I don't want you to."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watches him closely as he seems to mull over whatever he was trying to say. He waited patiently, the hand that was messing with his shades moving down to join the other, and cross his arms over his chest.</p><p>"Then why are you telling me to?" Dirk asks simply.</p><p> </p><p>"Because you're probably <em>supposed</em> to." It's a weak argument, but John knows it's the right thing. It isn't even a breakup if they weren't ever together, so why's he being an idiot about it? "I'm trying not to be selfish for once, okay?"</p><p>He breathes in again, deep, before pulling his shirt up over his face to completely dry his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"Asking me to stay isn't selfish."</p><p>Out of instinct, Dirk's eyes dart downward briefly to catch the sliver of bare skin that was revealed as John dried his eyes, despite himself and the incredibly distasteful timing. He counted himself lucky that John didn't see it, and continued.</p><p>"I want to."</p><p> </p><p><em>But it is,</em> his mind insists. The only reason John isn't arguing about it is because he's said his piece and Dirk still wanted to spend time with him. So even if he's got this instinct to shove him away, he has to force himself to remember that Dirk's his own goddamn person who can do whatever the hell he wants, and if that's hanging around John after all the bullshit, then that was his prerogative.</p><p>"... Okay." He rubs the fabric against his eyes before letting his shirt drop and blinking blearily at his friend. "I can't promise I'll be good company for a while. Losing Dave's got me, uh. Really fucked up. Especially since it's because I did something so <em>fucking abhorrent</em> to you."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels himself relax a bit when John doesn't just deny him and tell him to leave.</p><p>"Things aren't going to be able to go back to how they were. But Dave loves you. Just give it time." Dirk isn't sure if the reassurance is enough, so he tries a slightly different approach to lighten the mood. "If it makes you feel any better, he's nearly as pissed at me for being a dumbass as he is at you for being a dumbass."</p><p> </p><p>His mouth quivers, but it's the only emotion that breaks past his exhausted countenance. "Yeah b-" He almost insists that <em>he himself</em> was the one that deserved it, until remembering that, you know, so does Dirk. So John sighs instead and pushes his fingers up through his hair. It gets caught in a tangle, and he realizes he probably needs a shower.</p><p>"Yeah. Dave's right. But he's not pissed at me for being a dumbass, he hates me because I'm disgusting. Don't sugarcoat it, dude." The corner of his lips tilts up only for a second. "... Thanks for coming over. To check on me."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't argue with John, because he knew well enough that it would be fruitless. He'd already told him he didn't intend on diminishing the severity of what he'd done with excuses, despite how much it sucked to hear John talking about himself so harshly. At least he wasn't crying anymore.</p><p>Dirk feels a little burst of warmth at the smile on John's face - even if it was half hearted and just for a split second, it was a start. "Yeah. I was worried."</p><p> </p><p>His expression twists again, more of a pouting sadness than the earlier devastation, but John shakes it free before stepping forward once again. If he was allowing himself to be selfish, then he wanted another hug. This one is probably more obviously for himself with the way he butts his forehead against Dirk's chest and clings to him.</p><p>He doesn't think he deserves it, doesn't know if he'll ever get past what he did even if Dirk already has, but knowing Dirk was worried for him still fills him with something <em>nice</em>, if only for a little while.</p><p>"Sorry. For uh... Worrying you. Fuck, I'm a broken record today."</p><p> </p><p>He didn't pull away when John stepped in to hug him again, just hurriedly dropped his arms from where they were crossed and returned it properly. He hadn't really given himself the chance to revel in the fact that John was hugging him, when they hadn't done more than a few passing touches in almost a month.</p><p>"I'll give you a pass this time." Dirk says. He rubs his hand along John's back, pushing his shades up into his hair this time, just in case the hug lingers and he risks poking John with the business end of the pointy glasses.</p><p> </p><p>John squeezes him tight, laughing uncomfortably. "I had no idea you were so magnanimous, Strider." But he supposes he kind of did, considering. That wasn't the joke, though. "I'm... I gotta take a shower. Or go back to sleep. I'm so fucking tired, Dirk."</p><p>Despite all this, he doesn't pull away. He'd missed having any contact with Dirk after the whole... awkward mess. God, John missed just <em>holding his hand</em>. It'd felt so natural during their date, and now John felt bold whenever he managed to lightly brush against him.</p><p>So he wraps his arms tighter around Dirk's back, breathing him in, and waits. Eventually Dirk would pull away and he could crawl back in bed and try to get some more sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk smiles slightly when John laughs - as uncomfortable as it was, it was something, and very kind on Dirk's ears.</p><p>The contentment that came alongside the laughter was, unfortunately, tinged with a bit of guilt, though. Despite Dirk's efforts, deep down, something negative was still sticking with him throughout this whole thing, preventing him from enjoying it in the simple way that he might have wanted. He couldn't delude himself enough to believe that John and Dave weren't both right about how he both chose, and <em>is</em> choosing to handle the situation with John.</p><p>But it was nice to be hugged.</p><p>Dirk did, eventually, bring himself to pull away first. Though, one of his hands remained on John's bicep as he looked down to meet his eyes without the barrier of his shades this time.</p><p>"Have you eaten today?"</p><p> </p><p>He's almost relieved when Dirk pulls away, as disappointing as it was. Tentatively, John's hand lifts to cover the one Dirk rests on his arm as he blinks up at him. And then he tilts his head back down as he shrugs. "I was in bed until you knocked. I don't think I can keep it down anyway, but thanks."</p><p>It probably wasn't true - John wouldn't get sick, but he definitely wasn't hungry. But he didn't think a lack of appetite would convince Dirk not to try to convince him to eat.</p><p>"Really, I just want to try to sleep again."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk seems to consider that for a long moment, pursing his lips. He didn't even seem fazed by the presence of John's hand on top of his own, too lost in thought.</p><p>His eyes left John in favor of glancing towards the kitchen. Dirk... couldn't cook, and he wasn't about to try, and potentially set off every smoke detector on the hallway of John's apartment complex. Maybe he had something easy to cook, but that wasn't enough to eat as a meal, most likely. His free hand grabs his phone from his pocket instinctively, unlocking it in order to look at restaurants that delivered. Typically, he might not have needed to look at the lineup, considering he knew the area awfully well, but this time it needed to be through the eyes of someone with a peanut allergy, so he'd have to pick and choose a bit more to avoid John getting sick.</p><p>He realized he hadn't said anything in response to John before he'd made his split second plan, and looked back up from his phone.</p><p>"Take a nap. I'll order something before you wake up."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk says nothing for a long while, and it's a little uncomfortable the longer it stretches on. Had he offended him? He pulls out his phone a little while later, still saying nothing, and John's hand drops from his, anxiety twisting in his belly. God, what'd he say this time? Sure, he kind of wanted to be alone for a while, but he thought he said it in a gentle enough way that Dirk wouldn't be upset.</p><p>It's just as John is taking a step back, ready to apologize again and weave his way around Dirk to get to his room that the other man actually looks at him.</p><p>"Oh... uh. Were- are you going to stay?"</p><p> </p><p>Oh. Dirk's brows quirk up. Without his shades, the widening of his eyes was visible, and he suddenly wished he wouldn't have pushed them up at all. He blinks and quickly averts his eyes, a redness starting to warm up his cheeks. "I thought -- "</p><p>Dirk cut himself off, quickly running back their conversation in his head. He thought that John implied he wanted him to stay, but it seems he'd heavily misread the situation, enough not to recognize an obvious attempt to send him away easy. Now he was threatening to impose just because he'd gotten all wrapped up in this fix-it fantasy he was forcing on John and himself. It didn't take more than a couple of seconds for him to backtrack, dropping his hand awkwardly from John's shoulder.</p><p>"No, I'm - yeah. I can go home."</p><p> </p><p>He feels <em>immediately</em> guilty when Dirk looks startled. "No- wait... Fuck. I'm. I just thought that if I'm going to be asleep, it'd be... boring for you to hang around." John grinds his teeth together, frustrated at himself because he's so stuck between wanting distance and wanting comfort that all he's doing is confusing his friend.</p><p>When the hand drops from his arm, John tries to catch it in both of his hands. "I <em>want</em> you to stay! But I still don't think I deserve it. So I keep getting pushed around in my own head. Did you really just want to hang out while I took a depression nap?"</p><p>He almost asks, for a brief moment of forgetfulness, if Dave knew where he was, and then that pang of sorrow spikes in his chest again.</p><p> </p><p>John catches his hand, and the blush on Dirk's face isn't going anywhere, especially not now. His brows furrow slightly, embarrassed. He pockets his phone, using his now free hand to drop his shades back in front of his eyes. It wasn't as subtle as he might have liked, but he did what he had to - looking at John right now was difficult.</p><p>"I don't know. I guess." He mutters. <em>Yes,</em> was the simpler answer, because Dirk wanted to help, and he didn't know how to stop once he gets like this.</p><p> </p><p>John's lips purse for a moment, and despite the ... whole mess of the situation, he desperately wants something nice right now. Not that Dirk coming over because he was worried about him wasn't nice. It's just that he'd prefer something distracting, something normal. Despite the lack of light in his eyes, John quirks his mouth into a tiny smile.</p><p>"You guess? Here I thought you knew everything." He squeezes Dirk's hand, rubbing one of his thumbs up the back of Dirk's wrist.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk couldn't help but breathe a small exhale of a laugh through his nose, despite the way John's words pressed at the bruise of his pride. He felt that now familiar tingle of electricity as John's hand slid up to touch his wrist, and briefly considered how stupidly sensitive to his touch he was. Dirk being touch starved, of all people, didn't make sense - though, he didn't exactly let those people he fucked touch him gently, after all. John was one of two exceptions.</p><p>"That's the idea." Dirk returns the squeeze gently, his eyes glancing up to catch John's smile. It didn't reach his eyes, but that driven part of Dirk was proud to see it anyway.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh I get it. So you're just teasing me then." His tone keeps that light, amused air, but John wasn't kidding when he said he was tired. Now that the shock and panic of... his best friend hating him was over, John just feels empty and resigned. It <em>hurt</em>, and if he'd known- well. There wasn't any point in thinking about what-if's. If he'd been able to think about anything but his dick at the time, John never would have done it. So agonizing over things he didn't know in the past was useless.</p><p>He sighs down at their hands, one of Dirk's in both of his, and he wishes he could try to put some sort of thought together in his mind other than just enjoying the touch. "I'm probably not going to be able to let this go, Dirk. I couldn't before, but it was easier to... I don't know. Not think about it most of the time because you didn't seem bothered by it."</p><p> </p><p>"Something like that." Dirk offered a little smile at the comment, but it fades as John breathes a sigh and continues.</p><p>"I wasn't," He says, almost shrugging, but catching himself at the last second. "I'm not. And I don't expect you to have the same outlook on it. Not really a rulebook to go off of here, but I'd wager a guess that <em>letting go</em> isn't something you're going to be able to do, for better or worse."</p><p>It took Dirk an embarrassingly short time to forgive and forget, but it took Dave's scolding for him to realize that maybe he should have reconsidered the latter. And the former, for that matter, but Dirk didn't take issue with forgiving John for what he'd done. The process would likely just be a lot worse for John, with the guilt trying its best to eat him alive. He wouldn't say that to John, though. Dirk had a feeling he already knew he had a long road ahead if he was ever going to be able to move on from what he'd done.</p><p>"There's nothing wrong with that."</p><p> </p><p>Reluctantly, John releases Dirk's hand with a sigh, and a final little squeeze. His hands return to tug at his hair anxiously, but it's lacking the frantic distress from before. How could Dirk just... <em>not</em> be at least a little uncomfortable around him after that? Now that John's put a <em>word</em> to it, now that he's accepted it happened fully in his mind, John doesn't think he can forgive himself, and Dirk was the one who got hurt by it.</p><p>He heaves yet another sigh, hands sliding down to rub his palms over his eyes again. "I guess... you do whatever you want. It's stupid for me to try and convince you to hate me. Even if-" A shoulder lifts, his effort to stop from repeating himself. "... What <em>do</em> you want, though?" Is it too late to ask that?</p><p> </p><p>This time, Dirk <em>does</em> shrug, and lets his hands settle into his pockets now that John had released one of his. The answer to that question had changed a lot over these past few months. And there was a chunk of time in between where he didn't know what he wanted from John at all. But right now, Dirk thought there was only one answer that made the most sense.</p><p>"I want to be your friend."</p><p> </p><p>John lowers his hands from his eyes and smiles. It's sad, but genuine. "I want that too." He heaves a sigh, eyebrows pinching together and breaking the smile as he thinks about Dave. No offense to Dirk, but... This wasn't exactly an ideal tradeoff. "God. I <em>like</em> you, man, but. I love Dave. I don't know if- He's never gonna..."</p><p>Thinking about this is making his chest ache even more, feeling that telltale tingling that meant if he kept going he'd cry again and he <em>absolutely</em> doesn't want to cry in front of Dirk anymore. "Things aren't gonna be the same, are they." He turns, padding toward the direction he tossed his glasses and feeling around with his feet to try and find them.</p><p>"I'm going back to bed."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's brows knitted slightly as the sad smile appeared on John's face. It was getting to the point where he could quite literally <em>see</em> when John had another self deprecating thought - where Dirk kept up his practiced mask, John's emotions were always so clear.</p><p>"They're not." Dirk admits, watching John walk away. There wasn't much he could say to deny it, in good conscience. He didn't think he had to, though. "But he loves you too."</p><p> </p><p>His foot finally bumps into the frames, and John stoops to take them in hand, but doesn't bother putting them back on right now. "Love isn't forever, Dirk. It doesn't just last through anything. And <em>he</em> won't forgive me for this." The glasses dig into his hand as he squeezes, and John lifts a shoulder in a shrug as he turns toward his room.</p><p>"Do whatever you want, I guess. I'll be fine. Thanks for checking on me, but you don't have to stick around while I sleep."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't argue. He knew it was pointless by now, because there wasn't much he could do to change John's mind. But, Dirk was, of course, also completely incapable of accepting that he'd failed to do something.</p><p>So, he had a seat on John's couch to settle in for a couple of hours, and took out his phone to resume looking for places to order lunch from that were definitely peanut free.</p><p>"I'll wake you when the food is here."</p><p> </p><p>There are a lot of feelings whirling around in John's mind, and Dirk insisting he's going to stay only sends them into a weird... emotional tsunami in his mind and his heart. He kind of hates feeling so much when he doesn't want to feel really anything for a while, least of all about Dirk when he's already so confused. Not to mention reminded of his friend.</p><p>But despite all this, he still smiles as he slips into the room. Typically, John can't sleep with his door open, but even though he's sure Dirk would be quiet, he kind of wants the reassurance that someone is here with him. It might help him sleep.</p><p>He curls under his sheets, not expecting much from this attempt; therefore he'd be surprised - if he were conscious - that it only took him less than fifteen minutes to finally drift off.</p><p> </p><p>Once John had disappeared into his room (the door left open, but luckily Dirk had brought his earbuds and wouldn't chance disturbing him) Dirk did a bit of research on allergy friendly restaurants in the area. There was a whole website dedicated to it, which Dirk found interesting for the sheer excess of it all, but he ended up settling on takeout from some Mexican place that was highly regarded as very gluten and allergy conscious.</p><p>He probably should have asked John what he wanted to eat first. Dirk took quite a while going over and over the menu, trying to parse out what John might like. It was increasingly obvious to Dirk that he knew jack shit about John's food tastes, as much as he made fun of them. He eventually decided that there was no way to fuck up a burrito bowl, so he ordered one for John, and fish tacos for himself, after a ridiculously long period of time for what it was.</p><p>Once the order was in, Dirk sent a text to Dave, and didn't get a response. Not that he was expecting one. So he left the '<em>Hey. How are you holding up?</em>' in Dave's unread messages, and tried Karkat instead, if only to make sure Dave was alright. Karkat confirmed after a few minutes that he very much wasn't, but he was warming up a bit. If Dave had told him anything, Karkat did an excellent job of not letting it on. It made Dirk feel a little bit less like shit that Dave had someone there for him right now, after everything. Without Karkat, Dirk couldn't be sure how Dave would have handled it.</p><p>Once Dirk was satisfied enough that Dave was looked after, he settled back into the couch, and went about deleting the rest of those SBAHJ memes on his phone.</p><p>It was around an hour after John had went to lay down that the food arrived, and Dirk was padding down the hall for John's room, and knocking on the doorframe. It was... weird, to be back here again, considering what had transpired the last time he was in this room.</p><p>"John?"</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't dream, having been so exhausted and only having less than an hour before someone's calling his name. It's irritating, after needing the sleep so badly, and John's expression pinches with his frustration as he burrows himself further into his pillow.</p><p>He doesnt even registsr the voice, just that there's a soft sound pulling him back toward consciousness when that's the last place he wanted to be right now. Sleep brought ignorance, neutrality from most of life's stresses as long as they didn't breach into the subconscious. And John desperately wanted to take advantage of that.</p><p>Plus, he wasn't really a happy person when he's woken early.</p><p> </p><p>He sees John stir, but aside from nuzzling himself curtly into the pillow, there isn't much of a response. Dirk glances back towards the living room, where the still food still rested in its takeout bag, alongside two mexican cokes. Given his current condition, it was hard to imagine that the best solution for John was to maneuver him to the couch.</p><p>Dirk left the doorway, leaving John with the peace and quiet he wanted. If only for a few minutes. He popped off the cap of the coke bottles with the edge of John's counter as he gathered some silverware, and returned to his room with the bag of food in hand. John was probably asleep again by now, so Dirk is careful as he puts the two cokes in his fingers on the nightstand, and sits at the foot of his bed.</p><p>"John," Dirk repeats. "Food's here."</p><p> </p><p>That tugging call to wakefulness comes again; John grunts and clumsily rolls onto his belly, both arms tucked under the pillow so it curves protectively around his head. But the movement is enough to pull him out of rest just for him to smell the spice of food nearby, and confusion overcomes his annoyance.</p><p>There's a weight on the end of his bed, and he pushes himself up high enough to glare over his shoulder at the blurry figure sitting nearby. John squints, not recognizing the shape at first until his memory finally kicks into gear.</p><p>"I thought you went home..." Some of the tightness in his expression eases, and John pushes himself into a sitting position as he reaches for his glasses. His knuckles bump gently against something cold, and it startles him almost into knocking one of the bottles over. "Shit-"</p><p>He thankfully catches it before too much sloshes out, mainly over his fingers and the side of the bottle, then pinches his glasses to finally be able to see.</p><p>"You... oh. I didn't think you'd get anything until later." He feels a little guilty for the harsh thoughts from a moment ago. "Thanks."</p><p> </p><p>"You needed to eat," Dirk says it simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and takes John's food out of the bag.</p><p>"I didn't know what you liked to eat aside from the few things I've flamed you over, so I went with Mexican, since a bowl of burrito fillings is universally accepted to be an objectively decent meal. I didn't go too overboard with the extras, because again, the extent of my knowledge on your food preferences is nachos and mint chocolate ice cream. Knowing you weren't horrifically opposed to chips and queso helped marginally, though. I just hope you don't have any particular aversion to pico de gallo or guac, because you're fucked otherwise, since the option to separate all the ingredients into individual containers for you to add yourself was met with some opposition." There was a brief pause in Dirk's rambling as he held out the aluminum take out container to John, alongside a paper bag of chips and a fork. "Also, the place I ordered from is allergy and celiac conscious so you shouldn't have to worry about your throat closing up while you eat."</p><p> </p><p>It is... <em>far</em> too much for John's half-awake state to take in right away. He doesn't say anything for a while after Dirk holds out the food, mind still desperately trying to make sense of it. "Uh." His hands slowly stretch out for the bowl, and finally John's heavy scowl starts to ease away into something more humorous.</p><p>"You coulda just said you got me Chipotle, dude." His lips twitch up, and despite the overload of information and the quick jabs at his taste, he's suddenly struck with fondness that apparently Dirk had put so much thought into what to get him. After settling his food in his lap, legs folded into a pretzel, John pushes his blankets off to the side to make room. He shakes away the lingering frustration of being woken up after so little sleep, because Dirk was... <em>caring</em> for him. "I... really appreciate this, dude. Sorry if I said anything."</p><p> </p><p><em>That wouldn't have made you smile,</em> is the thought that first passes through Dirk's head, but he just ends up returning John's smile with one of his own. "No, my way was better. Hate to break it to you, bro."</p><p>Dirk scoots back on John's bed, mirroring his posture by crossing his legs and popping open the styrofoam box with his tacos inside. He wasn't sure that there was a decently non-messy way to eat them (fork maybe, though incredibly gauche) so he sort of just. Hesitated, and waited for John to eat first. "No problem. You need anything else? Epipen, just in case?"</p><p> </p><p>It's not exactly a laugh that huffs through his nose, but it leaves the same pleasant feeling rolling through his belly, especially when Dirk smiles. John struggles for a moment with the foil lid, biting his lip as he carefully peels back the folded down edge to avoid spilling it all over his lap.</p><p>"Nah. I trust you and your... extensive research. Besides, they're pretty good about that kind of thing." Before, John would get uncomfortable about being coddled. And even now there's that bit of guilt that he can never shake along with the insistence that it should be the other way around, but. He likes having someone care for him. And maybe it's because he's so tired that he's not trying to brush it off or joke about it in a way to lessen it.</p><p>But he decides that, if Dirk lets him, he's absolutely going to make it up to him for all this.</p><p>"You want your drink?" He glances up after finally prying the lid free, surprised when Dirk isn't eating. "Everything good with the order? You can have half of mine if they messed up."</p><p> </p><p>"I know. It took a couple hours ravishing Google Scholar, but I eventually discovered that they place in the top five allergy friendly restaurants, according to AllergyEats dot com."</p><p>Dirk waves away the offer for his drink, balancing the takeout box carefully on his legs before even more carefully pinching a soft taco between his fingers. "Order's fine. Just trying to parse out the best way of eating this that doesn't guarantee dripping salsa on your bedspread or my sweats." <em>Or looking dumb in front of you.</em> "Turns out my options are slim, aside from hunching over the box like a gargoyle." He takes a bite, and only a quarter of the filling spills back out onto the other tacos. He considers it a success.</p><p> </p><p>"A couple hours, huh. Flattering to know you were so dedicated to the cause." John takes a moment to stir his bowl, not caring about the slight overspill of toppings as he watches Dirk eat. "I'll probably change my sheets after this anyway; I don't typically eat in bed. But I'm always down to see you hunch like a gargoyle."</p><p>When he finally looks down again, John sucks some of the guac that's spilled out off of his knuckle and scoops up a big bite. He tucks it in his cheek to talk, deciding that Dirk's already seen him at his most pathetic today so some bad manners weren't going to make him look any worse. "Thanks again. I know I'm broken-recording again but I'm glad you're here."</p><p> </p><p>"The gargoyle hunching his purely to avoid you needing to change your sheets, so you can go back to sleep after this. Doing it anyway defeats the entire purpose, man."</p><p>He shrugs his shoulder. Dirk understood why they kept coming, but it didn't stop him from feeling a bit awkward at John's continued efforts to thank him. It wasn't necessary, in his eyes. John was hungry and upset, so Dirk bought him food and tried to cheer him up. Simple cause and (partial) solution. It didn't have to be portrayed as Dirk's overly fussy (<em>neurotic</em>) and caring (<em>clingy</em>) instinct kicking in if he just thought about it logically.</p><p>The only thing that complicated things was the way something in Dirk was warming at the sentiment that John was glad to have him here, even though he'd most definitely overstayed his welcome by loitering in the living room while John slept.</p><p>Dirk finished the small taco in two more bites before eventually responding. "No big."</p><p> </p><p>John thinks it is kind of a big deal, to him at least. But the way Dirk keeps brushing it off, explaining it away, makes him believe the other man probably doesn't like it being brought up so much. Still, John wants him to know that it means something. He just hasn't... figured out the right ratio of it before it makes Dirk uncomfortable.</p><p>"Whatever you say. I don't mind sleeping in spicy sheets that bad I guess. I'll need a shower no matter what. Didn't have one last night."</p><p> </p><p>"Depending on how many hours of sleep you're missing out on, I can wash them for you after." Dirk suggests. He didn't have a problem volunteering to help John. His overthinking hadn't stopped, of course, and he worried that he was lingering here too long in John's apartment, and it would just be better for him to step off and leave. That was par for the course. But when Dirk was like this, in this borderline <em>mothering</em> mindset, his excessive doubt was typically overpowered, to the point where he needed to be told explicitly that he wasn't welcome.</p><p>Dirk was very much an all or nothing kind of guy. It was sort of his thing.</p><p>"Do some other laundry beforehand, even, to give you the full housewife experience."</p><p> </p><p>John coughs up some rice, laughing in surprise. It's subdued, but still obviously pleased. "C'mon man..." There's that urge welling up to slip back into his usual mannerisms. Crack a joke, play along, roll his eyes. But John's just not up for it right now. Especially not when the tease turns into something romantic in his mind. "You'll have to fulfill your weird maid fantasies somewhere else, Strider. I'm perfectly capable of doing laundry." Later, after he's hidden in his apartment for a little while.</p><p>He almost asks if Dirk had any plans for today, but the last few times he's done that it's just pushed his friend away, and while he doesn't want to come off as so pathetic Dirk has to hang around and keep an eye on him, he'd rather not get in the way of-</p><p>John hesitates suddenly, glance darting sharply up. "... This isn't like. A suicide watch, is it?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk huffs a laugh through his nose, orienting another taco between his fingers to take a bite. No spillage this time, which was great for his gargoyling, and John's sheets. "I'll let it stay on the record that <em>you</em> introduced the concept of the kinky maid fantasy, not me. I've never seen the appeal."</p><p>Well, actually.</p><p>Hm.</p><p>Dirk was snapped out of his sudden reverie concerning various cafe scenarios of himbos in skirts (Or maybe himself in a skirt? He thinks he has the legs for stockings and garters, but which was better?) with the feeling that he'd just be doused in ice water.</p><p>His eyes immediately dart to John's, his expression one of incredulousness that somehow hid his horror at the implication in its surprise. "Jesus christ, John, <em>no</em>. I just came to see how you were holding up. Help you. I didn't think that you were--" Dirk cuts himself off abruptly, and the surprise on his face hardens into steely concern, and it's suddenly incredibly obvious just how little Dirk actually <em>knows</em> John. What he struggles with, in his personal life. "Fuck, <em>are</em> you?"</p><p> </p><p>"You were the one who brought up the housewife thing. You can't pin this on me."</p><p>He regrets the question the moment Dirk <em>looks</em> at him like that. "No, come on. Like. I might not be- I mean my coping methods and shit probably aren't the <em>healthiest</em> or whatever, and." John sighs, not really sure how to form his thoughts into words that'll ease Dirk's concern.</p><p>"I'm not. I mean, if I <em>was</em>, all I'd have to do is lock myself in the bathroom with a jar of peanut butter. It'd be over in less than half an hour!" This probably wasn't helping the situation. His lips pull back in a grimace, stirring food around in his bowl. "I'm <em>not</em>, okay?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's eyes were steady on John as he spoke, hanging on every word. They certainly had something in common when it came to shitty coping mechanisms, though to Dirk's knowledge, he still had John unmatched with his toking and borderline sex addiction. He almost thought John would have kept on that train of thought until his words dropped off, and he let out a sigh.</p><p>Dirk was left wishing, suddenly, that he didn't continue.</p><p>"Was that supposed to be funny? Don't fucking talk like that." The words come out stern, a little harsher than Dirk might have intended. He wasn't angry, despite how it could have sounded. If anything, it was just firm and direct. But John so casually assessing what he'd need to do to off himself prodded Dirk somewhere raw and unhealed, and he couldn't help but raise his hackles, despite the concern he felt effectively doubling, paired with a feeling Dirk didn't have a name for other than <em>upset</em> sinking its claws into his chest.</p><p> </p><p>He's not expecting to be chastised like that, but John figures it wasn't really a good situation to try and be blase. Dirk sounds unhappy, and it twists something in his chest to hear it. "Sorry." Shame prickles up over his skin, and John forms the foil lid back over his bowl. His appetite is lost.</p><p>"Like I said. Coping mechanisms aren't exactly the best." He leans to push his half-finished meal up beside the two untouched drinks before gathering his sheets up around himself, still sitting. "I'm not, though. I wouldn't do that to my dad."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk holds his ground for a moment longer before he was breathing a sigh, wiping greasy fingers on his sweats and averting his eyes from John after the apology takes the wind from his sails. "It's fine. I know that you weren't trying to..." Dirk gestures vaguely as he trails off.</p><p>Dirk can't find his next words, so he focuses on closing up his own takeout container as John continued, with the mention of coping mechanisms. "That's something we have in common, at least." He murmurs, setting the closed box beside his thigh on the mattress. It seems like Dirk wants to say more, but he comes up short, until John finishes his thought.</p><p>"I know you weren't serious." And yet, now there was a tiny, insistent part of him that just wouldn't stop asking: <em>Did you, though?</em></p><p> </p><p>"Yeah? Not exactly the best, uh. Talking point for conversation though is it? I don't think we can bond over not having healthy ways of dealing with shit." Not that he wouldn't put it past himself. John tries to smile, but he feels a little guilty for ruining their meal together. The tense moment doesn't escape him when Dirk looks like he's about to speak again, but the moment passes and John doesn't feel like it's the kind of thing he should ask about, given the topic.</p><p>He scoots to the edge of the bed until his legs are hanging over the edge, and John stares at the carpet for a few silent seconds. "Hey, so. I'm not really that tired anymore. You can probably go if you just wanted to keep an eye on me. But if you wanted to stick around, I was going to rewatch Stranger Things so I can hold onto the good before Netflix inevitably destroys itself and milks it dry with the new season."</p><p> </p><p>"We've bonded over less." Dirk remarks, because it was true. Pretty quickly after Dirk had managed to inexplicably brush the terrible circumstances of their meeting aside in his mind, John had him wrapped right around his finger. Probably something that a functioning neurotypical person should have been worried about, but Dirk had himself under control. It wasn't as if John had manipulated him. He'd made the choice to be his friend, and was still actively continuing to uphold that choice.</p><p>There was still an untapped infinity of other shit to talk about with John, though. Even just now, he'd mentioned his dad, a tidbit of information to hint that they were close. One of many things better to expound upon than their mental health. He shrugged a shoulder.</p><p>"I'll stay. I've never seen it."</p><p> </p><p>"Hah... yeah." His tentative smile turns a little rueful, but Dirk was right. They got along strangely well, despite everything. And even after Dirk has seen him at his worst, after John even told him he shouldn't be spending time around him, Dirk wanted to stay.</p><p>John doesn't let himself think about why that might be for too long.</p><p>"Oh, damn. I mean i don't really know what you're all into or anything but for the most part it's pretty universally enjoyed. A good balance of 'kids in stressful escapades' and your standard monster horror. And hey, there's even a Jonathan in it that gets off too easy for doing something creepy, so it's relatable too." Despite the topic, John laughs genuinely.</p><p> </p><p>John didn't seem to take well to that observation about their (friendship?) bonding experiences, if the way his smile falters had anything to say for it, so Dirk didn't fight too much on letting the subject slip away and morph into something else entirely.</p><p>Or, mostly, at least. The self deprecating joke John tacked on at his own expense left Dirk briefly in limbo with how he was supposed to even take that, considering John was such a wreck with the guilt what he'd done. But then John was laughing, and it sounded a whole lot warmer than anything Dirk would have expected to hear from him today, so it easily cleared up the internal conflict. He breathed a chuckle, and absently wondered if this Jonathan was even remotely as forgivable as John had a tendency to be.</p><p>"Still in a bit of an ambiguous zone when it comes to trusting your taste in media, among quite literally anything else. But how could I resist, when you put it that way?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, <em>you</em> want to stick around, so unless you'd rather sit silently in my apartment while I mope, you dont have any other options." His hand twitches out, like he's about to hold it out for Dirk, but he reconsiders and hops off the bed instead. He keeps his hands busy by grabbing the sodas and the remaining half of his bowl, padding into the living room to settle on the couch.</p><p>"It's definitely a binge show," he calls over his shoulder, leaning into the cushions. A few taps on the remote brings Netflix up, and he pauses it in the episode selection menu to wait and see if Dirk changes his mind. "Let me know if you get bored of it and I'll switch over to My Little Pony, you baby."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wouldn't quite mind either, all things considered - especially if it meant the moping would lead to John getting some more sleep - but he knew there was a correct answer here. He grabbed his takeout box and got to his feet, following John out of his bedroom to the couch where he was starting to pull up Netflix, and subtly jab at Dirk's excellent taste in animation. He sits on the opposite end of the couch, leaning against the arm.</p><p>"You've never seen it. If you had, you'd drop the trite 'baby' argument right where it stands. I'm not jaded enough to argue that FiM isn't a show for little girls, but there's inherent value in a show that puts a significant effort into character development and serialization. It's more than just pretty ponies for mouth breathing children and zoophiles. There's a lot to like." It sounds a lot like a thesis statement when it leaves his mouth, and there isn't much to suggest he didn't have an entire essay following. Borderline worshipping MLP to others had always kind of been his thing - spawned initially from a joke, but he'd be lying if he said the show didn't genuinely grow on him.</p><p> </p><p>"Mhm." John stares at him, eyebrows up in an expression closer to his usual self. "Well, you're right in that I haven't seen it at least. But clearly it's a big deal to you, so if Stranger Things is a flop, I'll watch a few episodes with you. I'll even let you pick which ones." Because, no offense to Dirk, but he doesn't think it's the kind of show he'd feel the need to see in chronological order.</p><p>He settles his food on his lap, placing the still-untouched cokes on his coffee table before hitting play. "The theme song is also just really good."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk just shakes his head, speaking matter of factly. "FiM is just as bingeable as you claim Stranger Things to be. It's not worth viewing out of order, but I'd be happy to loan you the blu-rays sometime."</p><p>He could have continued, but makes the decision to shut his mouth when the show starts and mirrors John's gesture opposite, setting his food on the coffee table and grabbing the coke instead to take a sip. He'd give it a chance. Though, he was a critic at heart, and this show wouldn't be exempt, not even this soon.</p><p>"I wouldn't classify that as a <em>theme song</em> more than it is a lengthy title sequence. It's just a bassline and some synth."</p><p> </p><p>"I think the whole series is on here. You don't need to lend me anything." He could argue or complain about how nitpicky Dirk is already being, but the burst of energy hed been running on has petered out. "Yeah, alright. It's good though." John stares down into his dish, stirring it more thoroughly now that there's more room to prevent spillover.</p><p>As subtly as he can manage, John looks out across the space between them, and quietly wishes someone else was here watching this with him , side-by-side instead of putting as much air between them as possible on the couch. Maybe Dirk would be more comfortable with a show he knew he liked. "Let's watch cartoon horses instead."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was just about to continue, fully prepared for John's argument back to him, and is reasonably caught off guard when it never comes. Dirk didn't actually give a shit about the music - didn't give a shit about most of the things he teasingly needled John about, really - he was just looking to antagonize John into some banter. No big deal. It wasn't too much of a shock that John wasn't in the mood. Dirk swallowed whatever he'd been intending to say, settling back against the cushions of the couch after putting his coke back on the coffee table.</p><p>When John speaks up again, Dirk's brows quirk above his shades.</p><p>"I thought you wanted to watch this."</p><p> </p><p>"I've already seen it. If you're gonna stick around, the least I could do is be a good host and give you control over the entertainment." He slides the remote over the cushions, but it gets caught in the dimple between two of them. John sighs and lays along the couch to push it the rest of the way.</p><p>"You bought me food, so you get the honors." Instead of pulling back into a sitting position, John says like this on his side, shifting one leg to drape down over the arm of the couch. Maybe he could get some more sleep in. For now though, he just drags his food up in front of his chest, one arm bent on his elbow to support his head as he takes a bite.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watches as John sinks down onto the couch beside him, his head tipping just slightly as he regards him with unabashed curiosity. He'd been under the impression that the mood was lifting a bit, but somehow, Dirk had managed to send it crashing right back down. Or, at least, he thought he did.</p><p>He shifts a bit where he sat, in a pointless effort to give John more room to lay down - Dirk didn't have anywhere to scoot to, aside from planting his ass on the floor instead, or just taking John's head into his lap, if he moved a bit closer.</p><p>"Did I say something?"</p><p> </p><p>The lethargy that had been sinking in is immediately shaken off as John pushes himself up. The burrito bowl is almost knocked off the couch, but John is too focused on Dirk. "What? No, god-" he struggles to sit up, almost reaches to touch Dirk's wrist, and eventually just slumps into a half-sitting position. "No, I'm... I'm just thinking about Dave. I'm sorry."</p><p>After placing the container on the table when he notices it alarmingly close to falling, John sits back up, once more on the far side of the couch, and rubs at his face. "I told you I wouldn't be good company right now, man..."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watches as John fumbles to sit up all of a sudden, and reaches out to steady his food so it doesn't tumble onto the floor below. It was nice to know that Dirk wasn't unknowingly fucking this up somehow, but he couldn't say that he felt relieved. In retrospect, it was a bit too soon to think that John would be able to adjust back to their dynamic so quickly after his breakdown. And a bit too soon to think that some things wouldn't remind him of his best friend, and send him spiraling.</p><p>Dirk lets the bowl go when John sits up and puts the food onto the coffee table, quietly contemplative.</p><p>"...Karkat says he's doing better, if that's what you're worried about."</p><p> </p><p>He's happy that Dave isn't upset, but at the same time he wonders if it just means his friend- if it means Dave isn't having difficulty cutting him out of his life. He doesn't like thinking about that so much, so instead he cycles back to what caused the thought spiral in the first place.</p><p>"You kind of act like you're still uncomfortable around me. It's great that uh. That you care and everything, but if you don't actually want to spend time together we can just text and stuff."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk seems to take a moment to consider it, despite the fact that he already knew his answer from second one. He'd thought things were going well with John today. Or at least, as well as they could, considering John was dealing with some heavy shit.</p><p>"I'm not uncomfortable. I thought that was clear from the beginning." Or at least, it was clear after their first and only date, aftermath notwithstanding. Because that <em>was</em> what John meant, wasn't it? John had always harbored some guilt despite how well Dirk had taken what happened at the party, so of course now that it was all brought to light again, he was doubting that Dirk was comfortable around him all over again. It made sense.</p><p>It couldn't have been about their horrifically failed attempt at being fuck buddies, could it? They were supposed to be friends now.</p><p> </p><p>John isn't sure how to clarify his meaning without sounding like a pouting child; the last thing he wants to do is put pressure on Dirk to do something for his own comfort. But now that he's brought it up, he knows there's the much chance to brush it away, especially when Dirk already thought he'd said something to upset him.</p><p>"God. I'm going to sound like a needy baby here but. You always sit as far away from me as possible. If it's for your comfort, I get it."</p><p>Yeah, he's pretty sure he failed the attempt to make it casual, but joking about how John wasn't as slender as he was in his teens, or talking about magnets or something, wouldn't flow as naturally right now. He rubs his face again, glasses shoved up into his hair, and mutters to himself, "I'm such a fucking mess."</p><p> </p><p>Oh. <em>That</em> was what this was about? Dirk hadn't even noticed, or given his position on the couch much of a second thought. He'd gotten used to giving John his personal space out of habit, in the spirit of keeping things from getting weird between them again. But with John's request, Dirk was remembering just how close he and Dave always were with each other - he'd chalked it up to his brother's own touchiness (Or, back in the beginning, a crush Dave might have had on John that was proven wholly untrue to Dirk) but it made sense that John had grown accustomed to it, in a platonic situation.</p><p>Despite his objective understanding, and John's clear embarrassment though, he felt a small smirk threatening his lips.</p><p>"John, if you wanted to cuddle with me, you could have just asked. If you can recall, I don't bite."</p><p> </p><p>John notices his mistake as soon as Dirk opens his mouth. Sure, its much better than his original fear of pressuring him, but the teasing is terrible (no it isn't) in a wholly different way (it was absolutely wonderful). "Oh no. I shouldn't have said anything." He leans heavily on the arm of the couch, this time being the one to act like there's a force pushing them apart.</p><p>"It's all good, man. Really." Dave wasn't the only touchy one in that relationship - John had always loved physical contact with people he felt close to. He wasn't the type to sling his arm around someone's shoulders randomly - and not just because of his height, okay - but sitting close, or leaning against someone, always felt so comfortable to him.</p><p> </p><p>"It's too late for that, man. I heard you loud and clear." Dirk says, already scooting himself over half a cushion. He nods to the empty space between them, inviting John to fill it. "Come here."</p><p>Yes, he was teasing John, of course. But he also wouldn't have really minded the gesture himself. It had been a while since he'd felt much more of John than the touch of his hand, or a hug, in today's case.</p><p>Amused brows bounce up over the rim of his shades as he waits for John to make his decision.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Oh my god</em>," he mutters, loud enough to be heard despite the soft smile starting to grow. He stands instead of scooting, walking a couple steps over to the side before lowering himself to sit on the edge of the cushion purposefully, but still close enough that his thigh brushes Dirk's knee.</p><p>He, after a moment of consideration, takes a drink from the coke that he believed to be his own, before glancing over his shoulder. "So are we watching cartoon horses or a monster horror?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watched as John sidled over to sit next to him, mostly. He was sort of perched on the edge of the cushion, and it left Dirk eyeing John's waist with the thought of just pulling him back against himself. It was a little too familiar, Dirk thought, but quickly considered that maybe that sort of thinking was what John meant when he said he'd been acting uncomfortable with him. There were still invisible boundaries that Dirk didn't think it too smart to cross, considering their history. But he allowed himself to slip into another mindset, for a moment. What would John's friend do? Or, more accurately, what would Dave do? They had a solid blueprint for broship before this, after all.</p><p>After a moment of hesitation that lasted a few seconds too long, Dirk curled his fingers into the back of John's shirt, using it as leverage to pull John back and have him sit properly beside him on the couch. It was a little awkward, and he had to maneuver his arm out from behind John's back so as not to have it trapped between it and the cushion, but it did the job just fine.</p><p>"You wanted to show me Stranger Things. MLP was mostly a joke. Another time, maybe." A pause. "Also, that's my coke."</p><p> </p><p>He takes another drink that ends up splashing into his face and down his chest - nothing that would require a change, though - as he's tugged back. John coughs quietly against the mouth of the bottle and squints over at Dirk from his slumped position, but there's clearly no heat behind it. Honestly, he's overjoyed. This felt much more comfortable already.</p><p>It's as he's righting himself that Dirk points out his mistake, "Ah, damn it. You can have mine, I barely touched it. And I didn't almost choke into that one either."</p><p>He leans forward, placing the bottle decidedly on <em>his</em> side and moving the other closer toward Dirk. "Unless you're just fucking with me and this was my own to begin with, ass." A few taps on the remote brought them back to where they left off before getting distracted, and John almost hesitantly settles against Dirk's shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk realized he hadn't quite gotten the smirk off his face in the first place when John spills the coke down his shirt, but he manages not to laugh at him, even when John looks up with a glare that had become very familiar to Dirk. It reminded him a lot of the one John had given him after the piggyback (horseyback?) incident with his neighbor, right out in the hallway.</p><p>He shifts when John rights himself, and allows himself not to think too hard about when he rests his arm over John's shoulders. It was more comfortable this way anyway, and was probably okay, if the cuddling banter hadn't sent John running for his bedroom and isolation from Dirk's touchiness.</p><p>"Not sure if I am." Dirk responds cryptically and shrugs the shoulder that John didn't have his head on in response to the Schrödinger's coke situation he'd brought about, leaving John entirely without an answer as he settles in to watch the show.</p><p> </p><p>"Fantastic. Then this is what it's going to be for now on." John heaves a quiet sigh just to put on an act, but the arm around his shoulders and the warmth against his side is too nice to keep it up in a believable way. He doesn't focus that intently on the screen, but he at least manages to interject commentary every so often when he does tune back in.</p><p>It isn't that he's bored; it's a good show in his opinion, but the comfort of someone pressed against him is starting to lull himself back to sleep. "Benny's the best damn character in this show. Don't let anyone say otherwise."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm assuming he's going to die soon." Dirk makes his call, the arm that had started off a bit too rigid on John's shoulders starting to relax as the minutes passed by. This was the right move for Dirk to make after all. His fingers play idly with the hem of John's t-shirt sleeve as he watches the show, meeting John's commentary with his own critique every time.</p><p>It was comfortable, and uncoiled some of the tightness that was the worry in his chest.</p><p>"It's classic misdirection, he's a foil for the antagonists to make them look worse."</p><p> </p><p>John breathes out a laugh, leaning further into Dirk's space only for a moment, head practically pressed against his chest before he shifts back in place. "Damn. Well I didn't say it was <em>original</em>." He tucks his shoulder up beneath Dirk's underarm, almost slips his hand back behind his waist before thinking better of it. He's not sure how comfortable is <em>too</em> comfortable with him, and he doesnt want to unintentionally blur the line of the friendship they were working toward.</p><p>"Any other early calls you wanna make, detective?" The light tugging at his sleeve momentarily draws his attention. John watches his fingers move for a moment, and he knows then and there that he will absolutely fall asleep like this. Which is a shame, because he really wanted to spend this time together.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels every point of contact with John like its electric as he shifts beside him, and suddenly feels the need to reconsider the notion that he might actually have been touch starved. Unless this was a normal reaction, and just another example of Dirk being a bit of a freak for panicking over it.</p><p>His hand slides from John's sleeve idly up the few inches to his shoulder, and back down. Keeping it casual. "Not particularly, aside from semantics, and an inkling that the sister is destined for some sort of Mean Girls moment with her purportedly 'less hot' friend."</p><p> </p><p>The touch goes from casual fiddling to something a little more intimate, and John has to look away. He doubles down on getting back into it, arm pushing behind Dirk's waist and tucking fingers between the cushion and the backboard while his cheek is mushed up against the side of his chest. Whatever. He wasn't about to be stupid about this, might as well get ready to fall asleep. He decidedly ignores the twist in his belly, telling himself off for being <em>dumb</em>.</p><p>"Eh. Yeah, I guess. Not super Mean Girls-y, but there's definitely a moment where she's not super cool to her. What do you think of the guy with apparently 'great hair'? I never got that- what constitutes as 'great' in this universe? ...Well actually, I guess for that time period, that's a fair assessment."</p><p> </p><p>"I wouldn't go as far to say it's <em>great.</em> Though, he pulls off the look, for what it is." He glances down at John as he shifts, and sort of. Curls up against him. He was likely just getting comfortable - tucking his arm behind Dirk's back was a pretty decent way to do that, considering Dirk had just done the same with his shoulders to make things a bit less cramped - but it struck Dirk that John was seemingly using his chest as a pillow. His hand stilled on John's arm as he glanced down at him briefly, the closeness a bit more striking than he should have expected it to be.</p><p>"Comfortable?"</p><p> </p><p>When Dirk's hand stops, he lifts his arm to rub his nose into his elbow. "I guess. But he definitely has one of the best character arcs in the show. No spoilers, though." He nestles himself a little more closely against him, freezing when he feels as though he's been called out. John grunts, lifts the shoulder his hand is still resting on, and doesn't look up at him.</p><p>"Yeah. Sorry if it's weird. You're a good height for it, and I've got kind of a stress headache. Do you want me to stop?"</p><p> </p><p>One of the best arcs, reserved for that guy? He found it difficult to believe, jaded as he was, and absently wondered just what the specifics of an arc that a person had to go through to become redeemable consisted of. He'd never been much of a writer. His fingers resume picking at the hem of John's shirt as he cuddles up closer to his side and shrugs, mentioning the headache.</p><p>"No, it's fine. But if you want to sleep, you should probably just go back to bed, dude." Dirk murmurs, looking away when John doesn't make the movement to meet his eyes. Gratefully, all things considered, because that would leave their faces a little too close for comfort. "You want something for the headache?"</p><p> </p><p>"Mmh... I'm good, I think." If he tries to go back to bed by himself again, he probably won't get much rest. Hopefully Dirk understood that when he inevitably drifts off, and doesnt try to wake him or leave. Ah, but that was selfish, wasn't it. John takes a breath before sitting upright again, still leaning against his friend. He'd rather stay up for now and enjoy the distraction.</p><p>"It's not that bad. And I'm not that tired right now."</p><p>He worries his lip for a moment before pulling away to grab his bowl, perching on the edge again to finish eating. "It might just be a hunger thing."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watches from the corner of his eye as John sits up, and feels suddenly as if he'd made a mistake by mentioning anything. John was awfully transparent - it was pretty clear to Dirk that he had every intention of sleeping on his shoulder, but he'd unintentionally nudged him away from the inevitability.</p><p>He reminded himself to keep his mouth shut next time. Seems like if he wanted John to do things to take care of himself, it would have to be through a little ass backwards convincing. A little trickery, maybe. At least John was eating, though. Dirk retracts his arm, and lets it settle lamely back beside himself as his eyes leave John's back and affix to the TV.</p><p>"Maybe. Just let me know. I'm here to help, bro."</p><p> </p><p>The hand falls from his shoulder and John regrets it immediately. He pauses in his chewing, almost tucking the bite in his cheek before deciding that was rude and finishing and turning back to look at him.</p><p>"You've done a lot already, man. It's great, but you've probably got your own life to deal with right? And-" he remembers that Dave was fine, which hurt a little and also threw a wrench in his plans, but... "And I'm sure you wanna check on Dave." Only a few seconds pass before John scoffs at himself. "Fuck, I'm doing it again. Jesus. I'm not... trying to push you away, I swear. I just keep feeling like I'm taking a lot of your attention. Selfish, you know?" Being honest and upfront was the best way to keep a healthy friendship. He's learned this the hard way now, but he's not so sure telling Dave what happened earlier would have ended much better. Still, he was going to try his best to keep it up from now on.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's eyes dart from the screen over to John when he turned to face him, blinking from behind his shades. The pause between John's words was just long enough for Dirk to realize that John was making a habit of trying to get him to leave, and once again felt the prickling, cold sensation of regret that he'd been overstaying his welcome. Was he <em>still</em> reading this wrong?</p><p>But then John was continuing, and reassuring him, and it was... relieving. Who knew that there was a better alternative to suffering in silence, picking apart every word another person says like a complex puzzle without asking for clarification or simply assuming the worst? Not Dirk, apparently.</p><p>"John, I'm here because I want to be. There's no obligation tying me to you." Dirk states plainly.</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>know</em>, and you've made that clear like. SO many times but I keep falling back into it. It's dumb!" He wonders if its because of his father's habit of doting on him so fully that's made him feel guilty whenever it happens. He knows his dad put a lot aside so he could have an easy life growing up. God. Now really wasn't the time for all this introspection.</p><p>"Though. I still-" His hand waves carelessly through the air, and John stuffs his mouth full of food, eating until it was gone. He doesn't know what's made Dirk want to be here for him so stoutly after very little interaction between them. Asking would be stupid, though. He finishes and slips the fork into the bowl before sitting back again. "I feel bad for people who don't like cilantro."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk only watches John as he cuts himself off with a mouth full of burrito bowl, waiting patiently for whatever he was about to continue with. Until he doesn't, of course. What?</p><p>"What?" He asks, because he's gotten the distinct feeling that he's been left hanging, what kind of subject change was cilantro anyway? "What were you going to say?"</p><p> </p><p>Yeah, he didn't have a lot of faith in that working anyhow. Still, he licks his lips and smiles a little sheepishly. "I said I feel bad for those people with the uhh. The soapy cilantro gene or whatever. It's so good in moderation. There's this place, Alberto's, they have these bomb fucking steak tacos with onion and cilantro in corn tortillas, and they come with these little cups of verde salsa and a lime wedge, fuck. My only complaint is they're so small."</p><p>He knows Dirk isn't going to buy it, and that only makes it funnier that he's trying so hard.</p><p> </p><p>"What the hell you are talking about." Dirk states, because it was becoming increasingly obvious that John was fucking with him on purpose, and he couldn't help the way his mouth tugged up at the corners, despite his flat tone of voice.</p><p>John was stupidly good at making him do that.</p><p> </p><p>"Just the best damn tacos I've ever had, man! The steak chunks are so tender you can tell they like... marinate and slow cook them. Not tough or chewy at <em>all</em>." God. He loved how nice it was to see Dirk smile. There's no way you could convince him now that it was something that didn't happen often.</p><p>"... Nah, but it wasnt really anything. You always seemed so, like. Untouchable, with how I never really saw you around when I came over, you know? So just don't really get why you... want to hang around me so much. I sound like I'm fishing, fuck. This is why I didn't want to say anything."</p><p> </p><p>He rolls his eyes behind his shades at the taco talk, but the admission has Dirk thinking back. Before he knew John, when all he was to him was Dave's dork ass best friend that occasionally lounged on their futon and ate their snacks. He'd never gone out of his way to avoid him, or anything, but it was true that he'd made himself scarce habitually when Dave had friends over. It was sort of strange to hear that Dirk's innate desire to keep to himself had driven John to put him on some sort of pedestal. And maybe it stroked Dirk's ego a bit, too.</p><p>"I like you. I think I've made that part pretty clear, at least. It's..." Dirk trails off momentarily, as if searching for the correct words. "You're fun."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm fun." For some reason, that statement is pretty funny to John. It sounded like a cop out, but he knew it wasn't. He takes a swig of his coke, noticing that it's starting to get a little warm with a wince, before settling back against Dirk's side. He considers joking about it, then wonders if he should point out he isn't very fun right now, but eventually he settles on a content sound, gently pressing his elbow into Dirk's side.</p><p>"Thank you. We've missed a pretty big plot point though, and I know I'm bad at talking during movies but I think I've really hit a new low with talking so much you probably don't even know what's going on."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wasn't the best at expressing what he was trying to say with any sort of emotional tact, so he's under the impression that he's done a fine job when John doesn't laugh at him, or something.</p><p>When John leans back into him, he hesitates for a moment before resting his arm back over John's shoulders. "Maybe so. You'd be right to assume that I have no idea what the fuck is happening." He easily finds the hem he'd been fiddling with before, and starts playing with it again. "Should I fill in the gaps with my own interpretation of canon?"</p><p> </p><p>His lips quirk up when Dirk resumes playing with his sleeve, and John stuffs his hand behind him again to get back into the comfort of earlier, minus the face-smushing. "Yeah or you could like. Ask the next time we get to a part that doesn't fit into your understanding."</p><p>His mind wanders shortly after - the season doesn't really kick off for another couple episodes anyway. One of those age-old 'what if' scenarios filters through his thoughts; if he'd never been a fuckup at that party, he would still be friends with Dave. But would he and Dirk ever have actually started talking? It's absolutely not an even tradeoff, but. John <em>likes</em> Dirk. And he doesnt realistically see them hanging out otherwise. It's conflicting. He hates what he did, and what it cost, but... there's one positive thing. And as much as he feels disgusted with finding <em>anything</em> positive about the situation, well. He can't deny it.</p><p> </p><p>"My way is more interesting. But sure." Dirk quips, and shifts when John tucks his arm behind his back, resuming their previous cuddle position. He reminded himself not to say anything to encourage John to sit up again - sleeping was probably still in his best interest, considering how exhausted he looked when Dirk first showed up.</p><p>His hand kept fidgeting with John's sleeve when he remembered something, and that hand was migrating upward, leaving John's arm in favor of resting on his head. His fingers settled deep into John's hair, lightly rubbing at his scalp with his fingertips.</p><p>If Dirk was going to play with something while he zoned out and sort of watched TV, it'd be more beneficial for both of them if it was with something that made John sleepy.</p><p> </p><p>He's drawn quite suddenly out of his thoughts when fingers slip into his hair, and it does just the opposite of make him sleepy. John jolts just a little, tilting his head to glance up at Dirk, but he was nerve-wrackingly close to brushing his lips over his jaw at this distance, so he abandons that attempt. "You ever consider getting a pet? Because you kind of do this pretty often." Or well, not <em>often</em>, but it was enough to be noticeable.</p><p>But he obviously makes no attempt to stop him, enjoying the contact. "Kinda wish I took my shower last night, now. Sorry if it's gross."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's hand immediately pauses in its petting of John's hair, feeling his eyes on him and not having the nerve to just look down at him when they were so close. Nothing in his expression changes, but he feels the warmth of embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck.</p><p>"...It's not gross. Do you want me to stop?"</p><p> </p><p>"... No. It's cool." And annoyingly calming once the surprise wears off. "I'd... accuse you of doing it so often because you want someone to do it to you, but considering what I know about you and your hair," despite it not being styled at the moment, "I'll keep my fingers to myself." Also, his arm would fall asleep holding it up in this position.</p><p>So John settles into him, still not the same level of comfort as before but clearly getting prepared for inevitable unconsciousness. "If I drop off, you can change it to whatever you want."</p><p> </p><p>"That's a weird way to interpret it, but alright." Dirk's fingers pass John's hair idly between them, curling some around his fingertips as he scritches his scalp. He didn't think he'd ever actually had his hair played with by anyone, except for maybe Roxy, once or twice. He'd never had to consider the impact it might have on wrecking his hair. Absently, he wondered if it would make him as relaxed as it did John.</p><p>Dirk would likely end up on his phone if John fell asleep on him regardless, maybe try texting Dave again, or check on some of his pending commissions, leaving the TV abandoned in the background. But, he took the offer with a nod anyway. "Sure."</p><p> </p><p>"No it's not. People sometimes do things a lot because they want those things to be done to them. It's perfectly normal." His mass of hair had never been very enticing to others, aside from pulling or ruffling which were...two very different things. So he doesn't deny that he enjoys this, sighing and not really doing his best to stay awake.</p><p>Dirk probably expected him to fall asleep anyway. Having someone so close to him right now was soothing; he could shut down, stop thinking or worrying or mourning, and just focus on the contact. He's not sure if it will carry over into his dreams, of course, but at least he would be able to <em>fall</em> asleep for a little while without feeling too terrible.</p><p> </p><p>There was a silence that followed as Dirk humored that line of thinking, sort of doubting the credibility as much as he worried about its validity for himself. Was that true, for him? Had he done shit like that before with John without noticing, and was it a form of manipulation? It could have been possible - even though he didn't have a particular attachment to having his hair played with, maybe there had been other things he'd been nonverbally communicating with John without his knowledge. He'd have to pay more attention.</p><p>Dirk doesn't end up responding to what John said for a minute or so, chancing a brief glance down to him, expecting to find his eyes closed by now.</p><p>"I think you're just projecting."</p><p> </p><p>They were closed, but they slowly slide open at his voice. He's so comfortable like this that he's drifting off almos alarmingly fast. "Dude. Just tell me if you want me to do it or not, since you're only ever going to try to out-subtle me. Damn." John laughs, one quiet huff of breath, before his eyes close again, and the hand in the cushions lifts to rest, palm spread, across the middle of his back.</p><p>He doesn't think he'll make it to his hair if Dirk agrees, but he hopes the threat of the touch sliding slowly up his spine makes his intention obvious.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk opens his mouth, then closes it with a shrug of his opposite shoulder, his eyes drifting from John's face over to the coffee table as he feels the warm hand sliding up his back. The condensation from their cokes had long since left a ring of water pooled at the bottom. He hoped it wouldn't mess up the finish - he should have gotten napkins to put them on since there were no coasters.</p><p>"If you want to."</p><p> </p><p>John could care less about the state of his coffee table. He's surprised it still looks as nice as it does after all he's put it through. The hand stills, and John's brow dips down. Now... Was he saying that because he didn't want John to do it but thought it would ruin his fun if he said no? Or was it because he wanted John to do it but didn't actually want to admit it?</p><p>Why did he have to be so damn stubborn.</p><p>"That's not what I asked, though?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's fingers slow, and then still in John's hair. He supposed John was right about that, wasn't he? He'd given him a non-answer, expecting it to be enough, but of course John would want him to actually express what he wants. Like a normal person would.</p><p>"Right. Yeah, it's fine."</p><p> </p><p>...Huh. Okay, so this was a weird moment. "You can say no, man." His fingers tuck back into the cushions instead, pressing a little more insistently into Dirk's side. Fuck. Now that he's realized... After John's breakdown at the door, when he realized Dirk didn't seem to care much about what happened to him, he's second-guessing a lot of little things. He can't ever be sure now if he's done something stupid, or taking a certain joke too far, because Dirk probably won't tell him.</p><p>And while he figured he might be getting okay at reading the older man, now he has no idea. God, what if he hated how clingy John was, but is only indulging him because he's upset? "Should I go to bed?"</p><p> </p><p>"I know that." Dirk says, and his brows knit just the slightest bit at the implication. It was a weird thing for John to say, but Dirk didn't get the chance to dwell on it too much as John changes the subject.</p><p>Or, maybe it wasn't as much of a subject change, as it was a loaded question. Dirk was getting the feeling that it had more meaning than it seemed to hold on the surface level, and he considered his answer carefully before continuing.</p><p>"You're doing a shit job at pretending you aren't sleepy, so I'd wager a <em>yes</em> to that one if your bed is, in fact, more comfortable than my shoulder." A brief pause, and Dirk glanced down at him again, not moving his head where it faced the TV. "If not, you can lay here. I'm not going anywhere."</p><p> </p><p>"It <em>is</em> pretty comfortable." This was starting to feel like another loss in his book and he doesn't know why. John sits up, pulling away from Dirk to pause the show and rub at his face. He could take some stressful tossing and turning for a few nights, but comfort at the sake of Dirk being potentially uneasy (and he'd never know the truth, no matter how open he himself was trying to be) wasn't worth it.</p><p>"Dirk, go home."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk blinks, his brows rising above the rim of his shades, very obviously not expecting John's answer. He was, again, left to wonder if it'd been something that he'd said that had John pushing him away. It had to be - the request was blunt and sudden, and Dirk would be a dick to press for his reasoning when he'd been intruding in his space all afternoon already.</p><p>Dirk must have been fucking obtuse to go this long without seeing that John just wanted his space right now, too nice to ask. Even so, there was something on the tip of his tongue, prodding at Dirk and needling him to ask <em>why.</em> Surprised brows knit into a furrow, his eyes leaving John once again. He swallowed the question down.</p><p>"Okay." He said, simply.</p><p> </p><p>John grimaces at the table, but it only cements his theory that Dirk was only hanging around because he thought John needed someone to watch him. And that was cool! It's definitely something a friend would do, sacrificing his own comfort to make sure he's okay and obliging his stupid need for contact.</p><p>"Okay. Thanks for coming over. It was nice." Would a hug be pushing it? John shuts off the smart TV, stares at the food and garbage on the table before deciding he didn't care, and stands. "I mean it. It means a lot. I needed the company."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk follows John's lead and gets to his feet, hands slipping into the pockets of his sweats. There was a beat of silence after, and his eyes traveled back to John from behind his shades. Was that it, then? He gave a single nod, feeling the ridiculous urge to fidget - shuffle his feet on the carpet.</p><p>After another moment too long of hesitating, Dirk takes his hands from his pockets and steps forward, as if to pull John into a hug - but stops himself short and diverts his attention to grab some of the trash from the coffee table to throw away on his way out. Hopefully the aborted movement wasn't that noticeable.</p><p>"Yeah, dude. Just text me if you need anything."</p><p> </p><p>John is making no such reservations. Clingy or not, he hopes Dirk can forgive him for one last selfish act before he leaves. His hand curls around Dirk's hip, stopping him from walking away with the remains of their meal, and he weaves between his arms to bury his face in Dirk's chest. Hands slide up his back, fingertips curled up over his shoulders like some strange reverse backpack.</p><p>"Sorry," he mutters into his shirt, before tilting his head to the side to speak more clearly. "Yeah, sure..."</p><p>He probably won't, still worried about being overbearing, but the offer, even if it's empty, still warms him.</p><p> </p><p>The part of Dirk that wasn't expecting the hug was just as big as the one that was hoping for it. It was awkward with the trash in his hands, but he returns John's hug almost immediately with his free arm, relief washing over him in waves.</p><p>Despite the gesture though, something in John's tone was giving him mixed signals. It didn't take much to guess that, if John was anything like himself, that promise to text was weak.</p><p>"I'm serious. I want you to text me."</p><p> </p><p>"It's fine, man." Dave needed his company more than he did, and in fact he's sure Dirk's brother wouldn't like him being here or keeping in contact anyway. When he pulls out of the hug, John tries to take the trash from him.</p><p>"Don't worry. Shit happens, you know? People uh. Fall apart." It's probably not a very convincing act, but John really didn't feel like putting effort into it. "I mean, usually it's gradual and not- you know."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk instinctively holds his arm out so John couldn't take the trash from his hand, because he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, and John was supposed to be going to lay down right now, after all.</p><p>He doesn't push the issue, but he doesn't falter, either. His mind had been made up from the beginning. He hadn't exactly planned to admit it, but he'd decided at some point after he'd gotten here this morning that helping John was his responsibility as a friend. And Dirk was nothing if not a persistent man.</p><p>"I'll be checking on you regardless."</p><p> </p><p>He feels like some kid being taunted for being small when Dirk moves the stuff out of the way, but he doesn't fight it. "Yeah, not if I lock my door." There's no heat behind it though. "Okay. Goodbye, Dirk." His hand pats gently on Dirk's stomach before he steps out of range, picking up his(?) half-empty bottle of coke to carry with him to the fridge.</p><p>"I guess I'll see you, then." John stares at him, wanting to say anything else but coming up short. His lips purse, a flat line of a smile, before he turns toward his room, slipping inside.</p><p> </p><p>"B&amp;E isn't my strong suit, but I'll keep that in mind." It wasn't clear if Dirk was joking with that, because there wasn't a smile or anything to otherwise indicate it. He didn't elaborate and let the moment pass, watching John as he pulled away.</p><p>He mirrored the bare smile John offered him with a ghost of his own. "Later, John."</p><p>He didn't move from the spot he stood until John had disappeared into his room. Dirk threw away the trash he'd kept from John, and grabbed the barely touched coke on the coffee table. He decided to leave it in John's fridge, just in case he wanted it, and also because the uncapped bottle would definitely topple over in the shitty cup holders of his truck.</p><p>He found himself lingering out of habit, instinctively wanting to search for anything else he could do to help John out, but came up short. He breathed an exhale through his nose, pocketed his hands, and left the apartment with only one more glance down the hall towards John's room.</p><p>He should probably try and text Dave again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay so my plan to stack on the short scene with the long scene ... miiight not be that wise, because the long scene is starting to be very long! I'm just gonna do the short scene with a decent chunk of the longer one if I can find a decent splitting point because I think the scene might end soon but I can't be sure.</p><p>But the wait has been long with life getting in the way and with the site downtime so I'd like to at least get one more chapter out for those of you still interested!</p><p>Once again, apologies for not proofreading - still being confined to mobile makes both rp and copying words over kind of frustrating and it takes much longer than I'd like. So to limit the amount of time I spend copying and pasting, I'm just gonna leave the typos in. And some of them are weird autocorrects so they might look really dumb! When I have enough energy I may go back and reread the past few chapters for the sake of cleaning up, but now is not that time.</p><p>Edit: okay since we've moved on to a few other scenes, stretching them out a bit more than anticipated, I'm just gonna post the short one on its own to let people know it's still going and then the next one in a few-ish days. Because I pulled over like a quarter of it and had to take a several day break.</p><p>Also, should I like... make this a collection? I'm starting to worry the long word count might be scaring people away!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He shouldn't have been surprised that Dirk wasn't all talk. While John would have been happy to lounge in his staple diet of self-pity and -loathing, Dirk texted. And as much as he wanted to be... not <em>alone</em> exactly, but at least allowed to mope, he couldn't ignore Dirk. Especially not with that little nugget of hope still quietly growing in him.</p><p>Unfortunately Dirk seemed to have gotten it in his head that John didn't find it painful whenever he brought up his brother. It was always casual, and if he didn't know better he would have assumed Dirk just somehow forgot. Because why else would he keep talking about the things they'd done together before the falling out? John never tells him to stop, but he never really reacts, usually trailing off whatever short conversation they'd been having beforehand. He couldn't tell him how it hurt to hear what Dave was up to, because then it might make him think he needed another intervention.</p><p>After a few weeks of this strange back and forth and rarely leaving his apartment other than for things he needed, John decides he needs some time out. He needs casual company, in a public area with some fresh air. It was a little uncomfortable texting Dirk, but he was desperate enough to get out of the house enough to risk the situation being misinterpreted.</p><p>'hey, do you want to do something? i really need to get out. a movie, or lunch, even just a walk! some company and fresh air would be really nice right now.'</p><p> </p><p>It had taken a week for Dave to come back to the apartment, and as of today, a few weeks for John to reach out to him first. Dirk had been, admittedly, starting to worry that his efforts to restore some of the warmth that John and Dave used to have were failing miserably on both ends. The text, however, was a good sign.</p><p>Dirk had never considered himself to be a conflict resolutionist. Hell, it was common knowledge that Dirk's interpersonal relationships were only held together with strings and wishes, mostly because he was, as Roxy had lovingly put it, <em>a socially inept dickhead.</em> Dirk never resented that. Despite it, though, he couldn't imagine how his carefully crafted plan could fail. He approached the rift between John and Dave like he would any other problem - logically, and with measured phases, until he'd eventually reach the solution he wanted. He'd been planting seeds with the both of them, reminders of each other every now and then, in the hopes of an olive branch sprouting - spurred by nostalgia, or concern, maybe even guilt. Dirk knew that they missed each other. It was blatantly obvious, so one of them making the first move, as if Dirk hadn't been pulling the strings behind the scenes the whole time, was inevitable.</p><p>It was the least he could do, considering his presence was what had fucked their relationship up in the first place.</p><p>Today though, Dirk had finally gotten the text he'd been waiting for. Even removed from his plan, Dirk had found himself worried about John. He texted him often, and luckily John was gracious enough to actually respond to his neurotic check ins, but this was the first time John had gone out of his way to message him first. With an invitation out, no less.</p><p>Dirk was on his way down the stairs of his and Dave's apartment, heading to the post office with another commission needing to be shipped off, as he tapped out a response text to John.</p><p>'I'd assumed by now you had adjusted comfortably to the life of a twenty something hermit.'</p><p>A few minutes passed before Dirk's next message as he descended the stairs and hopped in his truck, setting the box in the passenger seat.</p><p>'I planned to go to the mall today. I can be there in thirty. Or less, if you're ready now.'</p><p> </p><p>John feels his mouth twitch up.</p><p>'there's still time.'</p><p>He waits, almost anxiously, for a continuation when Dirk doesn't actually answer the question. Had he overstepped one of the new boundaries that had been silently set between them, after agreeing to be friends? The thought of dating as a whole left a sour taste in John's mouth, a twisting in his gut, but he really wanted to see someone right now.</p><p>Dirk finally (and by 'finally', he means 'after a normal amount of time stop being a stressed out <em>baby</em>, John') replies, and a new level of anxiety forms. The mall was <em>busy</em>, and he's not sure after so long of self isolation that jumping head first into all the potential overstimulation would be a good idea. But he also kind of really wanted some overpriced candy from the sweet shop.</p><p>'yeah, that works. take your time, i'm ready whenever.'</p><p> </p><p>'Perfect. In that case, I'll be there in ten.'</p><p>Dirk was smiling when he put his phone in the cupholder to crank the engine to his truck. It was his usual sort of 'smile,' barely there really, a crooked, ugly one that turned up a single corner of his mouth and always reminded of his older brother when he saw it in pictures. He didn't make a habit of it, really.</p><p>But, again. John.</p><p>Dirk buckled his seatbelt before pulling out of his parking spot, making quick work of his errand before driving to John's. If he didn't live his life to as closely follow the straight and narrow of a stone cold motherfucker, he probably would have had a bounce in his step. He didn't think too hard about his good mood, just snagged a lollipop from the counter at the post office that stained his tongue red and made him wonder if he should have grabbed a blue one for John by the time he was parking his truck in the parking garage.</p><p>'I'm here when you're ready.'</p><p> </p><p>Of course he'd already showered before asking, but almost as if he'd anticipated the offer to be postponed(or turned down), John dressed back into his sweats, rolling in sheets that probably should havebeen swapped out a week ago. So when Dirk tells him he has thirty minutes, he's surprised but not all that spurred into motion. But then thirty turns into ten, and John moans as he rolls out of bed. So much for a half hour of mental preparation.</p><p>He makes a lazy effort to brush his hair before changing into a tee and jeans, then sits uncomfortably on the couch as he does a quick rundown from memory of the mall and any potential stops he wanted to make, or perhaps just a good path for a complete circuit.</p><p>Dirk texts again, and John sighs, grabbing his keys and pulling on his shoes before jogging down the hall to the garage. It takes a little while to find Dirk - he didnt really recognize the truck he was in - and he wanders to the passenger's side with a little smile. "Hey." A little part of him wants to crack a joke, insinuate something stupid. "... Door unlocked?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk leans over the empty passenger seat in order to click the lock manually. Not a lot in this truck actually worked automatically, after all. Dirk had never been a car guy, hopelessly lost when it came to anything deeper than the aesthetics of the metal body. So, he had a bit of a junker. But it drove, despite the lack of air conditioning and those awful hand crank windows that only really worked on the passenger side, because his had long since jammed, so that was all that mattered.</p><p>"Hey, man." Dirk gives John a once over. He didn't look as much of a wreck as Dirk might have expected, but he still looked distinctly like he'd just rolled out of bed despite the clean clothes. Maybe it was the hair. Dirk had put more effort into his appearance than the last time John had seen him, actually wearing real clothes with styled hair (And his combat boots this time, because he wasn't quick to rule out another water incident. There was a fountain in this mall, after all.) "Did you just get up?"</p><p> </p><p>John climbs in, curiously lookimg over the interior like you do with any new car. Hed always expected Dirk to drive either something tricked out and probably full of questionably legal mods, or like. A Vespa. Probably the latter - he could imagine him getting FLCL with it. So this was... pleasantly humanizing.</p><p>John looks up from his internal debate of the amount of force to use to close the door (too hard and it would slam, too soft and it wouldn't latch) at his question. "Uh. No." He swallows a little self-consciously and focuses back on the door, then on the belt buckle as he clips himself in. "Been up for a while. Why did you want to go to the mall? Something you need to get?"</p><p> </p><p>"Sure you have." Dirk waits until John's door is closed before looking over his shoulder to pull out of the parking spot, hand resting on the back of the passenger seat.</p><p>"I'm picking up some studs." Dirk glances briefly to John as they're leaving the lot, shifting the lollipop on his tongue over to his cheek so as not to drool it out of his mouth like an idiot. "Studs, as in jewelry. For my snake bites. I don't mean to imply I'm taking you cruising at the mall."</p><p> </p><p>John frowns, just for a moment. "Why, do I look like shit or something? I woke up like two hours ago, man." His hands slide up and down the belt across his chest, grounding himself with the rough texture. Thankfully, Dirk takes his mind off the potential that he still looks like hot garbage despite putting in some (a little) effort today.</p><p>He snorts, the humor temporatily distracting him from everything else as he considers it. "Holy <em>shit</em>, what an outing that would be." John swipes a hand down his nose and mouth, still grinning as he considers it, ignoring the emotional complications. "I'd be a judgemental fuck. It'd be hilarious. Anyway, you sure you wanna get them at the <em>mall</em> when you could probably find better quality at a parlor somewhere? Probably cheaper too. I mean piercings, not guys."</p><p> </p><p>It was nice to hear him laugh, and Dirk could feel another smile pulling at his face. He'd missed that. It was... just an objectively <em>nice</em> sound to be hearing, Dirk thought.</p><p>"I can't get ones that look like two tiny pink dicks at a parlor," A response which made it clear that he was going to Spencer's, and nowhere else, most likely. He could grab a bong and a lava lamp while he was there, too. It was a superior establishment, or at least, it was when he was 14. "Realistically, I'm grabbing something for Dave from Guitar Center, and it's more time efficient than driving the extra twenty to a piercing joint."</p><p>There was a pause as Dirk focused on gunning it through a yellow light, his eyes straight ahead on the road as he spoke up again.</p><p>"You look nice, by the way. I was only teasing."</p><p> </p><p>The smile falters when Dave is brought up, but that's no big deal. It was a normal conversation topic. "You might be ballsy, dude, but I really don't see you committing to dick-lips on a regular basis. Imagine all the attention you'd get. People would come up and <em>talk</em> to you about it."</p><p>He'd probably just look at the poorly designed hats while Dirk did his business.</p><p>"Mmh." He stares out his side window while Dirk drives, not responding to the latter conversation. He didn't look <em>nice</em>. He looked exhausted and like he was trying to hide it and clearly failing. "I want candy."</p><p> </p><p>"And they'd be excellent for cruising. Maybe next time, man." Dirk drums his fingers idly on the wheel, bringing his left foot up onto the seat to sit comfortably, in a way that he'd learned tended to freak people (Dave) out from some inexplicable reason. He didn't need that one to drive after all. He had it on authority (Roxy) that it was markedly cooler looking than driving any other way, but it was more about relaxing his long legs than anything else.</p><p>He's oblivious to whatever self deprecation had prevented John from accepting the compliment, but his interest <em>is</em> piqued at that last comment. "Candy? Like, from that shop on the second floor with the giant gumball machine?"</p><p> </p><p>John, when he notices, isn't very cool with it either judging by the way his eyes snap open. Realistically he knew there was no reason it needed to be on the floor of the cabin but with his dad's driving etiquette hammered into him after a... mmm, slight accident while he was still learning, he can't ignore his discomfort. Ever so subtly, his arm moves to what he'd lovingly always named the 'oh-shit handle'.</p><p>"Uh. Yeah. The one up the escalator and a little ways away from the food court. You get a sucker but I don't get to buy my weight in jellybeans? Unfair. ... Maybe <em>your</em> weight, actually. But we can swing by the food court for you to ride the carousel if you want."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk glances briefly over to John, as if he could hear the sudden discomfort in his voice, but ends up just raising a brow at him before returning his eyes to the road.</p><p>"How did you know the carousel was my weakness? Is it the horses?" He quips, mostly joking, but the truth about the horses was still there. It was the closest he'd ever gotten to riding, unfortunately. "I'm more of a pretzel guy. But I can buy you an inordinately huge sack of jelly beans, if you're really so inclined."</p><p> </p><p>"God. You and your fucking ponies. I actually forgot, can you believe it? I was referring to your childlike nature." He feels the joke almost fall flat as he says it, and John's knee starts to bounce.</p><p>"I can buy my own damn candy, Dirk." He keeps staring out the window for a moment longer before finally looking at him. "Pretzels might be okay. So you're a salty-over-sweet guy then?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not sure anything about me is childlike, aside from 'my fucking ponies,' purportedly, as you so eloquently put it. Even then, this isn't a pony thing. It's a horse thing. A horse riding thing, in particular. A carousel is a cheap imitation, but an imitation nonetheless." Dirk slows to a stop at a red light, returning John's glance with one of his own.</p><p>"But to answer your question, yes. For the most part." Dirk almost felt it necessary to mention that Dave was the one with the sweet tooth, but he had enough awareness to know that it would be too soon. Subtlety was key.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," is all he says to that. He didn't really know there was an actual 'thing' involved; John just wanted to make fun of him. "So I'm planning on letting you plot the perfect course through the mall to hit all our stops, then. You strike me as a pretty good navigator."</p><p>John leans back against his seat, thinking for a moment. "Hey, remember my neighbor? The one you gave heart palpitations?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk exhales something like a laugh at that. "I'd sooner use the term <em>mall rat</em> than <em>navigator,</em> but the latter does sound significantly less unflattering." He presses the gas, his eyes leaving John to focus on the road again when the light was green.</p><p>"The 'neigh for me, daddy,' guy?" Dirk asks, because literally what other terms could he use to describe a man that he only traumatized once in the middle of a hallway? "Yeah, I remember him. Why?"</p><p> </p><p>John smiles for a moment. "Yeah, him. I started talking to him a little bit, before I uh. Locked myself in my apartment and everything. Mainly to apologize and try to make a joke out of it. He's... kinda weird, but not too bad when you realize he's not an asshole, he's just really shit with people. And sometimes an asshole."</p><p>Where was he going with this? "He reminds me a little of you sometimes. Turns out he <em>does</em> like horses, but I didn't ask him about the ponyplay shit."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk blinked, his eyes leaving the road for another split second to look over at John. He felt as if he were waiting for some sort of punchline, because yeah, the guy sounded a <em>lot</em> like him. Though, Dirk would probably switch out that <em>'sometimes'</em> with a <em>'usually'</em> when applied to himself.</p><p>"I would hope not. He'd probably think you were hitting on him."</p><p> </p><p>John's hands curl around his knees, and he doesn't bother looking over. "What's wrong with that?" It's muttered offhandedly, because John's starting to put together some ideas. Well. He wanted a reason to stop being so reclusive, and here it was - he was going to have to bump into the guy again soon.</p><p>"Yeah, anyway. Just a weird follow-up, if you were interested."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's lips pursed, a furrow appearing in his brow at that. He chanced another subtle glance over to John, before he blinks, and darts his eyes back to the windshield, where he intends for them to stay from now on.</p><p>"Nothing's wrong with it." He assures, because there wasn't. Dirk didn't care if John were to hit on some buff dude at the end of the hall. John was a single guy. And they were friends. "Good to know we didn't scare him to the point of traumatization."</p><p> </p><p>John huffs and smiles, remembering how fucking awkward the guy was the first few times he tried to talk to him. "Nah, pretty sure he's still traumatized." Actually he was awkward pretty much every time they spoke, so maybe it was just <em>him</em>.</p><p>"He works with machines and stuff too, but getting the guy to talk about himself is like pulling teeth. The most I got was he has a job as a mechanic but does other stuff as a hobby. You have some things in common."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's left foot leaves the seat in favor of joining the other on the floorboards. He sits up straighter in his seat, absolutely no emotion showing on his face this time around. The word <em>replacement</em> was bouncing around in Dirk's head, flashing like a neon sign, and he couldn't imagine why.</p><p>He was pulling his car into the mall parking lot as he responded, and the absent tone of his voice could be attributed to him just looking for a decent space. "That's cool."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk slips his leg back down in a more proper position, and John, in turn, releases the handle. He's still too busy making plans for later that the walls between them go unnoticed for now. He shrugs, pointing down an aisle when he thinks he spots a good space. "I guess. Is this the best entrance for our circuit, Navigator?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's eyes instinctively catch the gesture John makes out of his peripheral, and leads them to a pretty decent space outside of a department store. It seems that the subject has passed (luckily) and Dirk allows whatever had wound up tight inside of him to relax a bit. Now wasn't the time for... whatever that was. He'd stick a pin in it for later.</p><p>"One of several choices, but yes. Just watch out for the perfume department." He parks the truck and cuts the engine, chewing on the lollipop made lollipop stick in his mouth, and opens up the driver's side door. "Crank your window closed before you hop out."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh boy, I can't wait to not be able to breathe for five minutes. It's like walking into a Lush." John unbuckles his belt and makes sure his window is shut tight before climbing out and walking around the truck. "Where to first, then?"</p><p>His hands slip tightly into his pockets just to keep from the instinct to touch Dirk's arm or something equally stupid, and he's sure to keep a foot between them as they walk together. "Do you wanna windowshop or anything?"</p><p> </p><p>"Spencer's and Guitar Center are closest, both on the second floor, while the candy shop is furthest, but on the first floor. I'd say the most efficient circuit is to head upstairs first, head towards the food court, then drop back to the first floor afterwards to complete the loop here." Dirk says, locking his truck and leading the way for the double doors across the parking lot when John joins him on his side of the truck.</p><p>He tosses away the lollipop stick into the trash, immediately wondering if it were a mistake because chewing on it was occupying his mouth whenever he was threatened with saying dumb shit. Dirk shrugged it off, reminding himself to be a little more conscious as he holds the door open for John. "Does that work for you?"</p><p> </p><p>John slips into the building and turns to wait so they could walk together. "No need for permission, man, I'm good with anything. I didnt really have a goal when I wanted to get out, so if it helps your errands or whatever then at least it isn't a waste." He trusts Dirk's memory of the place no matter how hard it is to resist looking at the large map.</p><p>"Let's go get your pink dick lip studs, dude."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk simply nods, joining John's side as he steps into the mall after him. There was a silence between them that was... mostly comfortable, Dirk thought. He found his mind drifting back to John's neighbor despite himself as they stepped on the escalator. Something about the way John had described him. It didn't matter, not really, and it definitely shouldn't matter to Dirk.</p><p>He was left immediately uncomfortable with the direction his thoughts were threatening to wander to, so he changed the subject. With himself, at least. There wasn't much to show that he'd gotten lost in thought again aside from his silence as they ascended to the second floor.</p><p>"Ever thought about getting pierced?"</p><p> </p><p>John was too busy considering how likely his neighbor was to agree to a favor to notice any potentially uncomfortable silence between them, and still just a little lost in a funk to put much thought into his surroundings anyway. He almost misses the question, but it draws him out of his head enough to put some actual thought into it.</p><p>"Huh... I never thought I'd be able to pull it off before. And my dad would have been all weird about it when I was younger, so I dunno. I think I wanted to get my ears done and gauged a little at one point?" He pinches his earlobe for a moment, wondering how it would feel to have something there. "... Maybe not. I dunno."</p><p> </p><p>"No?" Dirk steps off the escalator, his tongue thoughtfully pressing the inside of his lip, against the dual piercings. "They would look good on you. Offset your dork image a bit, if that's what you're into."</p><p>He pockets his hands at the tease, the novelty store already in his sights a few stores down from the escalator.</p><p> </p><p>John has to watch his feet as he joins him, never having much grace when it came to escalators. He smirks up at his friend, rolls his eyes, and smacks one palm against a bicep. "Hey, I thought that's what these were for. ... Ah shit, that was stupid as hell. I'm not apologizing though."</p><p>He follows Dirk thoughtlessly down the path, watching him more than he's watching where he's going. "What do you think I should get? I don't know if I'm brave enough for a tongue stud."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk returns the smirk with a smile of his own, the huff of a laugh leaving him. "You can be jacked and a dork, man. They're typically mutually exclusive, if 90s entertainment has taught me anything, but It hasn't stopped you before, has it?"</p><p>They pass the threshold of the store, immediately assaulted with the sound of alternative rock, and some sort of cheap rubber smell that almost certainly came from the wall of sex toys in the back. Dirk brushed past one of the racks of shirts as they made for the locked piercing towers. He shrugged his shoulders at John's question.</p><p>"A nose ring is a safe bet. Doesn't hurt too bad. It's a good first, and men are at least 20 percent more attractive with one." He spins the tower, looking for the studs as he spoke. He'd had his own nose pierced when he was in high school, but it had long since healed over after he took it out, following a... series of events, with his Bro.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>What</em> hasn't stopped me before? Are you saying I'm a walking contradiction in other ways too?" John frowns up at the solid black of the walls, plastered with lame paraphernalia and barely illuminated by dim lighting. Spencer's never changed. He tugs at the dangling wool rope of a cap before following Dirk to the jewelry.</p><p>"I dunno man, can you cite your sources here? I feel like you might just be biased. And I don't know if I want to deal with having to stuff my finger into my nostril just to take it out. What if I pinch my nose and my septum gets stabbed? Don't really want a twofer in that sense. Or like... The little twisty ones, I heard they can pull snot out with them. That's pretty humiliating, Dirk."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not saying anything. You've got the body of a himbo, but you've also got something up there in your head aside from hot air and the knowledge of how to change a tire. Mostly questionable tastes in movies and food." Dirk shrugs a shoulder absently, but he's smiling. "You're smart, and hot. That's all there is to it, really. It's an objective observation, bro."</p><p>Definitely objective. This was bro talk.</p><p>"Have you ever seen a man with a nose ring that wasn't attractive?" He stops spinning the tower when he finds the types of studs he was looking for, but after a moment's hesitation, spins one last time to show John some of the nose rings. Dirk gestures to a black hoop, on a cardboard jewelry holder with some studs shaped like little skulls. "I had one like this when I was in high school. Didn't give me much of an issue - it's not sharp enough to stab through your septum, and the snot thing is all in your head."</p><p> </p><p>John barks out a quick, surprised laugh at being called a himbo, already trying to think of some kind of way to respond when Dirk has to go and blindside him with the compliment instead. "Thanks... You're smart and hot too." Definitely just bro talk! John even pairs it with a slap on Dirk's shoulder.</p><p>"I mean, I don't typically look, but I'm sure I have. Nose rings don't just magically take away bad features. I think you're just a fetishist that only sees the piercing so it makes you think they're hot when you're not really looking." He leans up on his toes to get a better look at the ring when Dirk points it out.</p><p>"I didn't know you had your nose done too. Any other holes, past or present, I don't know about?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk takes the smack to his shoulder with the smile still lingering on his face. He hadn't been fishing for reciprocation, but it... wasn't unwelcome, coming from John. "Regardless of the validity of your theory that I have a thing for piercings, the point still stands, dude."</p><p>That last innuendo was right there, dangling in front of his face like the most decadent temptation, but Dirk manages to resist somehow. "I had my nipples done, but I hated the way those felt. Ears too, but I never wear the piercings." There was a split seconds' pause as he spun back to the lip rings. "Pretty sure you've been acquainted with the rest of my holes."</p><p>He... <em>mostly</em> managed to resist. It was right there, how was he supposed to let that one pass? He allowed himself to fret for a moment about being too forward about. Well, <em>that,</em> but he wagered that it would make John laugh more than it would freak him out. Hopefully.</p><p> </p><p>John is still considering a Dirk with his nipples pierced when the rest sinks in. Breath gusts out in... Not a laugh, but something similar. "<em>Oh my god</em>..." It's no more than a whisper, because he didn't think it would be addressed so plainly when he considered the joke himself. He shakes his head, hands coming up to rub the flush he can feel spreading over his face.</p><p>"Just acquainted, huh? I don't know... I think I got pretty familiar with some of them that one time." Though now that he thinks about it, they haven't really done a lot of kissing, have they. Maybe Dirk didn't like it. "Just get your obscene jewelry already, dude."</p><p> </p><p>It's a tall order for Dirk to avoid chuckling at the blush he can see warming up John's face, even in the horrid lighting of the store. It wasn't a laugh, but it wasn't disgust either. Dirk considered it a win.</p><p>"Some more than others, yeah." Dirk says, before he looked over to meet the eye of one of the employees casually vulture circling the store, and gestured to the jewelry tower. He noticed that it tended to be a habit for them in case someone needed the case open - a bit inefficient and nerve wrecking, really. Once the employee had opened the case, Dirk gestured to the dual spike studs he'd wanted, and after a moment's hesitation, a pair of the ones shaped like dicks (If only for the sake of spite against John.) to be held at the register. Dirk glances over to John, "You need anything while we're here? Hat with a dick on it? A bong, maybe?"</p><p> </p><p>"If you're going to buy those you have to wear them the rest of the time we're here. Those are the rules, Strider." He wonders for a moment if they needed to be, like. Sterilized first, or if they were good right out of the package. Maybe he should figure that out if he's going to take Dirk's suggestion.</p><p>"Oh yeah? Why, so we can match as we walk around?" John snorts and looks over the sticker-plastered counter for a minute. "Nah, I don't smoke." He doesn't know how he might act on it, and after giving up on drinking, maybe another vice would be a bad idea. "Feel free to get whatever you want, though."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's brows quirk up at that, the little smile on his face shifting to something more like a smirk, because if John wanted to play it that way, then Dirk would be delighted to play along. He wasn't vying for embarrassment, but it was worth it if it meant not losing a game of chicken. Chalk it up to Dirk's defiant streak. "What gave you the impression that I wasn't going to already?"</p><p>Dirk didn't seem to need anything else, apparently only asking John out of principle, as he made a beeline for the counter afterward. Dirk purchased the piercings and made off with an adorably small plastic bag with them both inside, turning to John once he'd finished. "I'll change them out in the men's room. You're welcome to come with me, and bear witness to my purported humiliation at putting these dicks in."</p><p> </p><p>He follows him out and sincerely considers the secondhand humiliation that will come with walking beside him, before deciding he really doesn't care. "I didn't think you'd ever wear them, man. Figured you got them for novelty's sake and would put them in a drawer somewhere. But I'm down to watch you put some dicks in."</p><p>He knows what he's saying as he's saying it, but John follows through with a flustered smile. "Also maybe lower your voice when talking about putting dicks in in the bathroom, or someone might follow us and be <em>super</em> disappointed."</p><p> </p><p>The smile on John's face was doing stupid things to Dirk's chest that he chose to dismiss as a surge of his own pride. Dirk would bend over backwards to prove anyone wrong about anything if he was challenged - and in this case, John had been the one to give him the bait.</p><p>Dirk shuffles the bag between his fingers as he leads the way out of the store and back near the escalators, where a pair of restrooms were tucked down a short hall littered with wall advertisements and a couple of vending machines. "I only said it once. You made the choice to play along with the innuendo, bro."</p><p> </p><p>John glances disinterestedly around the hall, wondering what it was about mall bathrooms that always seemed so dimly lit. Did they just not think the area was important enough? "Yeah, you're right. But how was I supposed to resist something so dumb and easy?" He typically avoids public restrooms while he can, and John doesn't hide his wince as he hops forward to get the door for Dirk.</p><p>The man was about to put his hands near his mouth - he wasn't about to let him touch a public bathroom door.</p><p>"Why did you want to do it in the bathroom anyway? I bet we could have found a mirror somewhere else."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk couldn't retort, considering he'd done exactly the same with his own innuendo just a few minutes before. Fair enough. Dirk's brows quirk up when John's face contorts, and based on the timing, it probably had something to do with touching the bathroom door.</p><p>"I need to sterilize them first. And I've found that people don't take too kindly to the sight of lighters in public places. You can wait in the hall, if you're going to get all squicked about it." Dirk makes quick work of washing his hands as he spoke, grabbing the lighter from his pocket and setting it on the counter alongside the plastic bag.</p><p> </p><p>His eyebrows bounce up, surprised at the implication. But he washes his hands right alongside Dirk, glad he didn't have to like... Keep silent or risk offending him by asking if he was going to do it. "Why would it bug me? I mean I thought I'd have to go find you a bottle of rubbing alcohol somewhere in here, but I guess this is easier. Won't you risk melting the... Are those plastic, or-"</p><p>He supposes he should have tried to get a better look at them <em>before</em> they were going in Dirk's lip. "How long do you have to do it? Won't it take a while to cool down? ...damn. Sorry for being so chatty."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk pops open the plastic packaging as John fires off his questions, shaking his head and glancing briefly at him through the mirror with an amused smile teasing at his lips. The sudden question drill was a little out of the blue, but John's curiosity was more entertaining than off putting. "No, and no."</p><p>He paused in order to take his piercings out, putting them in the plastic case in place of the novelty dick ones before continuing. "I'll only need them in the flame for a couple of seconds. Nowhere close enough to do any real damage, or warrant any significant cooling time."</p><p>Dirk flicked his lighter, one of the piercings held in his palm, and the other between pinched fingers as he passed it through the flame.</p><p> </p><p>John watches intently as Dirk plucks out his studs, but it occurs to him very quickly that it might not be the best idea to focus so hard on Dirk's lips. Or really his mouth in general. He bites down gently on his own lip, but when he feels his face warm he looks back into the mirror as though seeing it reflected through glass might make it less... Intimate.</p><p>He's probably just weird.</p><p>He passes his hands under running water again, just for something to hold his attention other than Dirk. "You're lucky they're small enough that most people won't even notice."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, yeah. They're lip rings. Would you rather I strap dildos to my face instead?"</p><p>Dirk was too busy sterilizing his second stud to notice John staring at his mouth, pocketing the lighter once he was done. He used his middle finger to tug his lower lip down just enough to slip the piercings in one by one, leaning closer to the mirror as he did. He ran his tongue along the new metal, testing the feel, and glanced at John through the mirror once he'd finished.</p><p>"There's not many occasions where I've felt gayer than I do at this particular moment."</p><p> </p><p>John laughs dutifully but he makes sure not to pull that image up - as funny as it might have been, there was a chance it could backfire, and he <em>really</em> didn't need that right now. His hands scrub at each other with increasing intensity while his eyes flick back and forth between them and Dirk's reflection. This shouldn't be an issue still! It'd been a long time since he and Dirk had done anything together, and John was still pulling himself out of the sludge of depression, so there was no reason to get flustered by the way his tongue swept over the backs of the studs, pushing out his lower lip just a little...</p><p>The skin of his hands is starting to turn a little pink.</p><p>He shakes them off and smiles at his friend through the mirror. "Well, you <em>did</em> just put dicks in your mouth, so. You know. Fair." There aren't any towels left in the dispenser, of course, so he has to blast his hands under the dryer. But at least the way his skin pushes around with the air pressure and the obscenely loud sound is enough to distract him from. Other nearly obscene things.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's brows raise now that his eyes were properly on John, immediately spotting the flush on his cheeks, and the incredibly unsubtle way his eyes kept flicking between his hands in the sink and Dirk's face. Huh.</p><p>Dirk starts to say something, but then John was using that needlessly loud airplane engine of a hand dryer, and Dirk decides he wouldn't be able to hear him anyway. He grabs the plastic bag with his piercings inside, and gestures for John to follow him out of the men's room.</p><p> </p><p>He thinks he's played it off well enough when Dirk doesn't point it out, so John shakes off the last few drops of water and follows him out, being sure to use his foot, then his hip, to push his way out.</p><p>"So, guitar place next? Ah-" He cuts off when he glances at his friend, then gestures to his own mouth. "One's crooked."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk pauses once they were out of the bathroom, his brows furrowing just slightly as he pokes at the piercing with his tongue. It's not as if that would actually help much, though, considering he can't see it like this.</p><p>There was a brief second of silence as Dirk looked at John, seeming to ponder something in that moment. He very easily could have used his hands - his sense of touch to twist the stud until one matched the other. He takes extra care to keep his face perfectly straight.</p><p>"Everyone's a critic. Straighten it for me."</p><p> </p><p>"Hey listen, I just know you have a thing about being put together, you know? Figured I'd help a guy out." Okay but maybe he shouldn't be going <em>that</em> far to help him out. John stares up at him, expression guarded. He could just push his fingertip against the stud and twist it upright and be done with it. Totally normal bro behavior. In fact, putting up an argument would be <em>more</em> suspicious in this case.</p><p>"You, uh. You sure you want my grimy fingers on your face holes? I mean, you sterilized them for a reason."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk blinks at him, though it's not obvious thanks to the shades, his head tilting a fraction to the side. It wasn't a huge request. At least, Dirk didn't think so - he would ask Dave or Roxy to do the same thing in this situation, all things considered. Besides. Things didn't feel as weird as they were few weeks ago. John was over whatever they had, wasn't he?</p><p>"You washed your hands thirty seconds ago."</p><p> </p><p>Okay well he can't argue with that. John licks his lips, knowing the harder he put this off the more likely Dirk was going to assume something negative about why he didn't want to touch him. Whatever. It was fine. He didn't have to be weird about it.</p><p>"Yeah, alright." John steps closer, reaching out to brace the fingertips of one hand against the curve of Dirk's jaw, beneath his ear. It was <em>already</em> weird. He narrows his eyes, flustered, and uses his thumb to nudge the little dick in the upright position and it takes everything in him to not follow the motion and brush over his lip. His hand drops, and John steps back. "Guitar Center?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk couldn't help the shiver that ran through him when John's fingers brushed beneath his ear - still sensitive to even a barely there touch. He wasn't sure why that was, but it was likely the same reason it felt so good to have his hair tugged on.</p><p>That... wasn't a train of thought he was supposed to be entertaining right now. He stood up a bit straighter, his eyes on John's behind the safety of his shades as he carefully nudged the stud where it was supposed to be. He looked nervous. Dirk wondered absently if the reason why had something to do with him, specifically. Probably not, and it was just a case of Dirk's narcissistic ass making him think he was special. Whatever they had was over. This didn't mean anything.</p><p>Dirk ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach when John pulled back, nothing at all showing on his face as he offered a thumbs up and started back down the short hall that led back to the rest of the mall.</p><p>"Thanks. Sure thing."</p><p> </p><p>It felt like a weird test, and John doesn't know if he passed or failed. He slides up close to Dirk, and now that the jangling nerves have settled, he feels a little sulky. There's no way Dirk would have asked him to do that naturally - he must have seen how weird he was acting in the bathroom. Dirk didn't strike him as the kind of person to put him through that kind of assessment, but what else would he be doing?</p><p>John smacks his arm with the back of his hand. "Come on, man. Don't pick on me."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk offered a slight smirk at that, electing to leave that shitty train of thought he'd just had back in the hallway behind them where it belonged. Yet another thing he'd put a pin in for later. He was supposed to be cheering John up today, and he wasn't in a position to do so while indisposed with his own bullshit.</p><p>"You were blushing, and incredibly easy to pick on. I took the bait." Dirk quips, not trusting himself to glance over at John, so keeping his eyes on the Guitar Center storefront in the distance instead.</p><p> </p><p>"Ass..." That wasn't exactly what he meant but fine. "Come on. You know I'm stupid." He smacks his arm again, lighter, before tucking his hands in his pockets. They're still close enough to brush arms with every other step; maybe he should move away. He shouldn't be jumping back on this damn bandwagon again so soon or, ideally, <em>ever</em>. It's only fucked everything up for both of them... But he can't help it.</p><p>Dirk probably just doesn't realize.</p><p> </p><p>"I do know that, yes." Dirk states simply, not feeling the need to nudge John to show his was only teasing, since he'd already made it clear on several occasions that John wasn't actually stupid. <em>Hot and smart,</em> as he'd put it.</p><p>Dirk probably needed to stop thinking about that as anything more than the inconsequential comment than he'd meant for it to be.</p><p>When they reached the Guitar Center, Dirk walked in as if he knew exactly what he was looking for, when he very much didn't. Sauntering in like he'd been here a thousand times was a preferable option, especially if it meant avoiding the elitist employees. He glanced over to John once they'd safely passed the registers.</p><p>"Dave needs a mod for his turntables. Shouldn't take long to find." Truthfully, Dirk was very much out of his element when it came to music tech, so that might have been a stretch. He would never admit it, of course.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, so. Be nice to me." His lips quirk but it's empty; Dirk didn't know the dumb teasing would confuse him. John stays silent as they enter, having never been here himself, but Dirk looks confident enough so he trails close after him.</p><p>When Dave is mentioned again, his eyebrows draw down. Had he talked about his brother this much before the... Falling out? John didn't think so, but he also hadn't been paying attention back then. "... Sure, man. I might just take a bench in the hall and wait while you look around though, because if it isn't a piano then I have no idea what you'll be going on about." It also felt like a segue into talking about Dave and his music while he looked and John didn't need that right now.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was scanning his eyes over the samplers before they moved to John, and he pursed his lips. He hadn't exactly been asking for John's <em>help,</em> per se, but he wasn't expecting him to dip out so quickly. It was abrupt, and while the excuse might have technically been valid, it didn't hold water.</p><p>Dirk knew better to think it was so simple. John was onto him this time, and it was fine. He'd have to work on keeping his segues to Dave a bit more subtle.</p><p>"You sure? I can show you the info for the mod on my phone."</p><p> </p><p>"You said it shouldn't take too long, I don't think I'll be much help." John slows his pace, deliberately falling behind. He didn't want to sour the mood by moping just because Dirk wanted to brag about his brother. That was stupid and selfish.</p><p>"We can just swing by the carousel after this, and then head back to get you a pretzel."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watched him for a moment longer before shrugging his shoulder. "Alright." It's all he says. Pushing John on this wasn't in his best interest for the long term. He'd have to regroup, and try something else.</p><p>There was a part of his brain that reminded him that what he was doing was crossing some sort of unspoken line between them. The majority of his brain reminded it that this was for their own good - how was aiding in the repair of their friendship a bad thing?</p><p>Dirk took out his phone to look at the screenshot he'd taken earlier from the website, turning on his heel to look at the shelves behind him instead once he'd given it a glance. "Don't forget about your candy shop, dude. We're here for you too."</p><p> </p><p>"That's cool," he mutters, slipping back out of the shop and down a ways for the nearest bench. He wasn't really feeling up for rotting his teeth anyway, and it felt... weird to go so far out of their way just for some candy. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and almost clicks Dave's contact info, but it would have brought up that last message Dave had sent, that John wasn't able to reply to. He didnt want to think about Dave right now! He was supposed to have accepted it and started moving past it. Fuck, Dirk.</p><p>One leg crosses over his knee, and John's foot wags rapidly in the air as he waits for Dirk to finish up.</p><p> </p><p>It took two loops of the store and a text to Dave (Just in case, he wasn't about to ask the guy at the counter) to find the exact mod that Dirk had been looking for. He made quick work of the check out process despite the time he'd already wasted wandering the aisles, and a brief set back involving a compliment on his snake bites at the register.</p><p>He couldn't be sure if the guy was making fun of him or not, so he simply met the compliment with a stare, and asked for his receipt. He shoved it into the bag alongside the mod and left the way he'd come in, spotting John on a bench nearby and making his way over.</p><p>"Hey. Sorry about the wait. Ponytail guy at the counter had a hard on for the dicks on my face."</p><p> </p><p>He looks for anything that might distract him from all the uncomfortable thoughts bouncing around in his skull, but as time dragged on and became longer than he would have figured, it was more and more difficult to concentrate. John doesn't even notice Dirk come up at first, until he glances over at his greeting.</p><p>"Oh yeah?" There's a barely-there prickle of something that John doesn't internally address. "Did he get your number?" Clammy hands brush over his jeans as he stands up. "I didn't get a good look at him, so I dont know if that's a viable question or not."</p><p> </p><p>"It's not a viable question. I was kidding. If anything, I think he was making fun of me." Dirk pockets his free hand as he watches John get up from the bench, giving him a once over. He couldn't tell immediately if the mood that had him leaving the store had passed or not, but didn't think it was appropriate to ask.</p><p>"Candy shop next, carousel after?"</p><p> </p><p>"What an asshole. Want me to go in there and beat him up for you? It's the least I can do for goading you into it in the first place. As long as you promise to take me home after I get kicked out of the mall." John is kind of proud with how normal he sounds as he offers, despite his distraction.</p><p>"Yeah, I guess. If you want me to hurl. We can skip the candy, I can buy something cheaper at the store later on."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk breathes a chuckle through his nose. If John isn't feeling better, then he's doing an excellent job of hiding it. "As much as I'd love to see you fight for my honor, I'm going to have to pass in favor of not getting the segway cops called on you."</p><p>Dirk starts to walk, because they'd need to go in the same direction regardless of their destination anyway. He wasn't too keen on ditching the candy idea, especially because it was the only thing John had actually said he wanted, back in the car. "I'm buying you candy whether you like it or not, man. You can eat it later."</p><p> </p><p>"I could outrun them."</p><p>John follows. Of <em>course</em> he does. He'd follow Dirk across the whole mall if Dirk wanted to go for a walk. ... Maybe the guy <em>should</em> have asked for his number. It'd be easier to get it through his own thick skull if Dirk hooked up with someone else.</p><p>"You're not buying me anything, Strider. I already told you."</p><p> </p><p>"Shoplifting it is, then?" Dirk asks, and it's defiant enough to sound like a joke. Dirk was no stranger to petty theft, but a bag of candy was particularly difficult to sneak away. He was absently considering the imagery of a bag of jellybeans ripping from inside his jacket and getting pursued by a mall cop when he looked down to meet John's eyes.</p><p>Regardless, he didn't plan on taking no for an answer. John declaring that he wanted candy was enough for Dirk to latch onto in his efforts to lift John's spirits. This was his first time out of the apartment with Dirk in weeks, and he wasn't about to fuck it up.</p><p>He nudges John's arm lightly with his elbow. "How about a comically huge lollipop?"</p><p> </p><p>It was his first time out again in a while, and John just wanted to feel like an adult again, like he was <em>capable</em>. So Dirk's offer only felt like he was coddling him again. Which, in turn, made John feel guilty for looking like he needed the attention. "I have money. I can buy it myself."</p><p>It sounds harsh, especially paired with Dirk's joking tone. "Really, it's <em>fine</em>, man." He responds to the nudge with a hardware, shooing him away. "Those things taste terrible, anyway."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk frowns when John snaps at him, his eyes lingering on the shorter man for a moment longer before facing forward again. Message received, apparently. There was only so much he could do when he knew his help wasn't wanted, so he decided it was in his best interest to stop pushing. For now, at least.</p><p>"Would you rather we just turn back now? I'm not desperate for a pretzel."</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't look up, the momentary silence prickling over his skin. John worries his lip with his teeth, trying not to think about how his internalized self-loathing was negatively affecting Dirk. Deep down he still believes Dave, thinks he should cut ties from both of them, but he knows he can't.</p><p>He's too selfish.</p><p>"Sorry. What about your horses? We're almost to the food court."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk shrugs his shoulders. The carousel thing didn't sound as great if John was in a mood. The thought was beginning to make Dirk feel sort of like a spoiled child dragging his miserable parent through the crowded mall. He hadn't counted his efforts a failure just yet, but it was beginning to veer dangerously close.</p><p>Was this all because he'd mentioned Dave? That issue ran even deeper than Dirk thought.</p><p>"Have you eaten anything today?"</p><p> </p><p>He feels his jaw clench at the question, but only for a moment. Maybe it wasn't another offer to pay for him, just a curious question. Maybe it was Dirk trying to subtly tell him he was being an asshole and blaming it on hunger. Maybe he was right about that.</p><p>Instead of offering an answer, though, John just shrugs. "I don't trust mall food. I'll get something at home. What do you want to do?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm hungry. If I buy a pretzel, will you split it with me?" Dirk asks, definitely not with any ulterior motives involving John intaking some sort of food, even if it's a greasy mall pretzel. It had him wondering again if this sort of thing was some form of subtle manipulation; if it was wrong. He didn't think it qualified. Not really, anyway.</p><p>"I never finish anything I eat. I wouldn't want to waste it."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh yeah, I remember your waffles..." And the nachos. And the... tacos. Huh.</p><p>John is tempted to say yes just to have the satisfaction of denying him later - cool prank, bro - but he shakes his head. "Auntie Anne's is kinda..." He waves his hand in the air before stuffing it back in his pocket. "Kinda wishy-washy with the whole peanut thing, dude. Sorry."</p><p>Besides, sharing food with him would make him feel stupid again. "We can just go if you didn't wanna get the bites or whatever. Don't go hungry for my sake."</p><p> </p><p>"Hm."</p><p>He doesn't stop walking just yet. He was waiting for a chance to turn around, and find some stairs, complete the loop sooner than planned. He lead the way across a catwalk that cut through the... balcony? What were those holes called on the second floor of a mall, that looked down to the first? Too big to be a balcony... was the whole thing a catwalk? Architectural terms weren't in Dirk's lexicon, he grew up in a two bedroom apartment in Texas. There was some sort of Italian word for it. Mezzanine? That sounded right, but also sounded like something he'd just made up on the spot to pacify his lack of proper verbage.</p><p>Dirk kept himself distracted with that train of thought as he starts back the way they'd come, on the opposite mezzanine now. His attention was centered on his purposefully tangential thoughts, and on the descending staircase ahead that they'd passed not too long ago. He didn't say anything else.</p><p> </p><p>Oh. Well it was only a matter of time before Dirk got tired of his shit, right? John is sure he's being annoying, asking Dirk to do stuff together only to be frustrating and weird. He slows so he can walk behind Dirk over the narrow path, and doesn't try to catch up once they're across, trailing behind him.</p><p>Maybe it was too soon for him to try and get back out, despite his thoughts that he'd been a useless sadsack for too long. He can't get over all the negative that's happened, especially since it was his fault for everything.</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was still entertaining thoughts of architecture, mentally comparing this mall to one he'd grown up with in Houston. It was smaller, and despite the joking, he wasn't even sure if it <em>had</em> segway cops. More than likely just men with nightsticks with a tiny office beneath the stairs, watching CCTV monitors.</p><p>He was halfway down the stairs to the first floor when he registered what John had said, and simply shook his head in response.</p><p>"It's fine, man. I get it."</p><p> </p><p>"Sure." The outing was a bust, and John knows it would be pointless to try and salvage it. ... Though he <em>had</em> labeled the restaurant the same way, and look how that turned out. Not that this was anything like that, and shame on him for thinking about it in the first place.</p><p>He steps up beside Dirk as they near Spencer's - on the other side of the gap - and John pulls out his phone to have something to do on their way out. Or at least to look like he had something to do. Twice, he opens his mouth to try and speak, crack a joke, and both times fail until he gives in. "Thanks for taking me out."</p><p> </p><p>"You don't have to thank me." Dirk says, almost idly as they approach the exit. He had a lot to think about, after this. Particularly, how to continue pushing his pro-Dave agenda to John in a less blatantly obvious way, that wouldn't make him spiral like this. Maybe a bit more about John's hot mystery neighbor, if he let his subconscious get the best of him. It wasn't Dirk's business, but that obviously didn't matter much, did it?</p><p>He takes out his keys where they were tucked away in his pocket once they were back out in the parking lot, the height of the sun in the sky indicating it was verging on late afternoon. Dave was expecting him to drop off his sound equipment, and while Dirk had planned to send him a text once they were at the food court to let him know he'd be home a bit later, it seems it wasn't necessary anymore.</p><p>Dirk unlocks the driver's side door with his key once they'd reached his truck, and he ignores the heat of the leather seat as he hops in and leans over to unlock John's door from the inside.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah I do. You let me tag along on your shopping trip, bringing down the mood. The <em>least</em> I can do is thank you." It kind of felt like john was doing the least in many regards. "Sorry about your pretzel. If you want, I can get you this, uhhh, box set where you can make your own. It's cheap and really good. You have to put the effort in but it makes a lot."</p><p>He doesn't think he can bring this back, but he also doesn't want to go home with this tension between them, so as he crawls in through the passenger's side door, he gently taps his hand on Dirk's shoulder. "It's fine, man. I'm <em>trying</em>, and I'll get there. It's cool."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk breathes an exhale through his nose, something reminiscent of a laugh. "I think I'll be alright. Mall pretzels aren't easily replicated."</p><p>He sticks his key into the ignition, but doesn't make any motion to pull out of the parking space any time soon. Instead, he looks over to John when he taps his shoulder, contemplative behind his shades. There wasn't much he could do to change John's mind when he was like this, no matter how subtle he attempted to be with his efforts at helping him. He reminded him of Dave in that regard, hopelessly stubborn to a fault when he wasn't in the mood to cheer up, but kept that tidbit of knowledge to himself.</p><p>"No big deal. Sorry, if," Dirk might have gestured vaguely here, if his hands weren't placed uselessly in his lap as he trailed off, and if he didn't already know the roots of why John had closed off on him. "I did something."</p><p> </p><p>"If you say so. Let me know if you change your mind; they're pretty good. And no peanut residue, that's always a plus in my book." Dirk doesn't say anything else for a while, and John frowns at the dashboard, wondering if the attempt to lighten the mood was too little, too late.</p><p>It's not until Dirk himself apologizes that John glances sharply at him. Normally he'd be quick to reassure his friend. Dirk didn't deserve any undue guilt for John being a dumbass.</p><p>He'd been talking about his brother a lot, though, and John would have figured he would know better.</p><p>"Don't worry about it. I've just been kind of an asshole for like." How long ago had that first party together been? "...Months, I guess."</p><p> </p><p>"You <em>were</em> an asshole. Once." Dirk corrects. "Can't say I remember you being one after that."</p><p>It was true. Dirk knew that he'd been the dick himself for the majority of their time together. He couldn't comprehend John thinking otherwise, considering all Dirk had done over the course of their (platonic) relationship was fuck things up between them. Dirk looks over his shoulder, placing his hand on the back of John's seat as he starts to back out of the space.</p><p>"You want to make a stop at the grocery store and grab some food? Pretzels optional."</p><p> </p><p>"I was kind of one today." He looks at the arm reaching back over his shoulder, feels like a sap until he reminds himself that this was normal driving behavior for when people have to reverse, and settles in his seat.</p><p>"I've got stuff at home, unless you're using this as an excuse to try them anyway. But thanks for the offer. Here-"</p><p>John leans in his seat, head almost far over enough for his hair to brush Dirk's wrist as he pulls out his wallet. He plucks out a five and tucks it into the center console. "For the gas." It wasn't far enough out of Dirk's way to warrant a ten, so he brushes aside the worry that he was being stingy.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't think so. You weren't into it. Doesn't mean you're an asshole because of it."</p><p>Back to John's place it was. Dirk's hand returns to the wheel once he was out of the space and started to drive, though his eyes were drawn over to John when he leans in the seat. Flicking his eyes between John and the road, he watches him slip a five into the center console and immediately shakes his head.</p><p>"No. Keep your money. I was coming here anyway, and your place was on the way."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah but I asked. I specifically asked you to come out with me and then I was a grump. That's a pretty asshole move, dude."</p><p>He tucks his wallet away again and stares out the window. It was a start, he supposes. Maybe one day they could hang out again without the dark cloud of the past hanging over them.</p><p>"Ah come on. It was a little out of the way. And it's also to cover some of my bad attitude. How long are you going to wear those?"</p><p> </p><p><em>It wasn't,</em> Dirk could have argued, because it still didn't quite feel too much like John was being an asshole. It might have had something to do with how objectively, <em>logically</em>, Dirk was attempting to view the situation. John wasn't ready, so Dirk found it easy to excuse his behavior. He didn't think John would appreciate the sentiment that Dirk was letting another thing slide with him, though, so he elected to stay silent.</p><p>"I didn't see you put that five back in your wallet, bro." Dirk murmurs, tonguing at his lower lip where the new piercings poked through at the mention. "I'll wear them long enough to-" <em>Show Dave? Come on, man.</em> "...properly spite you."</p><p> </p><p>John clicks his tongue and picks up the bill, moving his hand to slide over the pocket in his jeans, following the movement to tuck the money into the little side pocket on the lower interior of the door. "Spoilsport."</p><p>His eyebrows bounce, but just as he turns his head to say sometching he catches the sight of his lower lip jutting out and remembers the bathroom. Maybe he just needed to get laid - depression jerkoffs just for the serotonin just didn't cut it. "Okay, so I'll see you with those for the rest of the month, then?"</p><p> </p><p>A slight smile teased at Dirk's face as he spoke, and the challenge was accepted the moment the words left John's mouth. He doubted he would even seen much of John over the next few weeks if the way today had gone was any indication for the future, but he intended to uphold his side of the bargain.</p><p>"You will."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A shorter, kind of mopey, uneventful chapter, I know; we had a thing planned but halfway through the scene we felt like it wouldn't be very natural so we pushed it back. This was mainly just to kind of point out some little things happening that start to build up into something bigger, which gets touched on in the next chapter (which we have already finished) and if it all goes well then from that point on, the worst of the downswing should be over! Then we have some more positive and healthy development in the works, again, as long as it goes to plan! I'm gonna start copying over the next chapter as soon as I post this one because it's a lot longer and will probably take some time on mobile, but then I might go back and finally beta-read the last few posts to fix the errors I'm sure i missed because thumb typing is my personal hell.</p><p> </p><p>And just to ask your opinion again, is the big wordcount a turnoff? I might chop the story off soon and start a new work to make this a collection to prevent the &gt;100k thing from scaring people off</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dirk had done a lot of thinking about their last hang out, dissecting everything he'd done wrong - or at least, everything he'd done to make John react the way he did. The most obvious conclusion was one he already understood: Dave was a touchy subject. It was hard to tell if John had caught on to what Dirk had been doing, given the way he'd shut down so abruptly. Dave hadn't been much better when Dirk mentioned who he'd been with that day at the mall.</p><p>All his efforts seemed to be falling through on the surface, and it was... frustrating. He was reminded every time he saw Dave lounging in the living room alone that he'd been the one to wedge himself into their friendship, and pry it apart. Sure, he hadn't actually <em>done</em> anything. But if John had never met him, none of this would have happened. Semantics.</p><p>He was determined to fix this, and the way he'd been going about it only had John and Dave both shutting him out (or getting angry, in Dave's case.) It'd already been nearly a month since their falling out, and aside from planting a few thoughts, nothing had changed. Dirk would just have to be more straightforward.</p><p>Dirk was just about to send John a text. He'd planned to ask if they could meet up and talk today, so Dirk could pose his question about reconciliation with Dave, and potentially get himself kicked out soon after his arrival. He wasn't sure how John would take it over text, so discussing it in person was the safer option.</p><p>It was just a matter of actually hitting send.</p><p> </p><p>Their last stretch of time spent together had kind of... gone off the rails, and John was starting to worry that it was becoming a theme. Which, part of him wanted to take it as a sign, that he should- god. No, he wasnt doing this again. He was trying to get better! Dirk wanted to spend time with him, and shoving him away, even if he believed deep down that it was the best thing for him, would only hurt him. He'd take it wrong, ask one of those 'was it my fault' questions John has been hearing more often, and it'd be the opposite of what he wanted.</p><p>So he's determined to do his best for Dirk's sake. Even if it feels selfish most of the time, he wants his friend to be happy. And maybe a happy Dirk would mean a happy Dave; he'd like to think he could be a distant part of that. He still loved him.</p><p>But he still would rather think about Dave on his own time. Dirk never stopped the little offhand comments. John thought he was being obvious when he pulled away after each time Dave was brought up, but either Dirk was being deliberately obtuse or he just genuinely didn't see a problem.</p><p>But it was fine! They were brothers, it was natural to talk about him, and even though he doesn't remember him being brought up really at all back before, surely it was just because he hadn't been paying attention to it.</p><p>John ignores the prickling unease in his bellly and decides to try again. Going out had been a flop, so maybe something more casual would help. They could try more Stranger Things, or John could watch MLP or something.</p><p>They would figure it out.</p><p>'hey, do you want to come over and do something? i can order pizza!'</p><p> </p><p>Dirk nearly dropped his phone onto his desk when the text popped up on his screen, clearly not expecting one of those weird texting coincidences from John from the way he quickly fumbled and deleted the message he'd just typed out.</p><p>He briefly glanced up, as if to make sure no one had seen the lame display, before turning his attention down to the message in front of him.</p><p><em>Something</em>? The word choice, if it were a text sent from anyone else, might have seemed fun and suggestive. Instead though, it was from John, and Dirk was left wondering what exactly it could have entailed. More Netflix, sans chill? Definitely threw a wrench in his plans to talk about Dave today. But maybe that was for the best. 'Easing into it' was a less traveled path on Dirk's mission to reunite the two friends.</p><p>'Sure. Fair warning, I only eat Hawaiian.'</p><p> </p><p>Just after he sends it, John wonders if they were far enough from everything that he didn't need to specify whenever asking to spend time together that it wasn't for sex or a date. He likes to think they're past that, solid in their friendship, but he also worries Dirk might still get the wrong idea. But pointing it out each time felt like it would be weird. ... Fuck, as if he needed yet another thing to be anxious about.</p><p>The ping of his phone snaps him out of it, and John winces at the screen.</p><p>'is that by choice or are you so wrapped up in proving a point to nobody that you can't accept anything else? i'll get half hawaiian.'</p><p>Huh. That almost felt normal. Maybe he was finally pulling out of this mess after all.</p><p> </p><p>Jesus christ. Since when was John able to absolutely read him to filth like this? Well, always, probably. It had just been a long time since John had whole heartedly snarked him like this. Dirk hadn't even realized he'd missed it.</p><p>'Choice. You make me sound like a mindless hipster when you put it like that, god damn.'</p><p>Dirk stood from his desk, not dressed for the day despite his previous plans of dropping in on John, and setting down his phone for a few seconds to pull on a pair of jeans, at least.</p><p>'When do you want me over?'</p><p> </p><p>'sure, right. how's your coffee, by the way? still hand-pressed and ground from the finest beans from wherever-the-fuck-hipster-coffee-comes-from?'</p><p>Yeah. He was back, baby. There's a little bit of lightness in his chest, and the relief is... so pleasant. He takes it as a good sign, smiling down at his phone.</p><p>'any time is good! just let me know a little bit ahead of time so i can get the pizza ordered.'</p><p>He could probably find something that still needed cleaned to fill the time.</p><p> </p><p>'Fuck you.'</p><p>Dirk meant it, but he couldn't deny it was one of the more endeared <em>fuck yous</em> he'd ever given, a secret smile sneaking its way onto his face as he read the words.</p><p>He found himself reconsidering the jeans once John gave him no time limit for arrival, glancing down at himself and wondering if it was really necessary to dress up to lounge on the couch.</p><p>The answer to that was yes. 'Do I have time to take a shower, or are you actively starving for a slice of pepperoni within the next hour?'</p><p> </p><p>John smiles, not reading any heat in the words whether it should have been there or not. He catches himself typing out a little text heart, but as his thumb hovers over the send button he reconsiders. Might be kind of weird, right? Sure, he was feeling better, and he absolutely would have sent it before, but. It'd probably look forced at best. Unfortunately his thumb is a little too close to the screen to get away with it, sending the emote as he starts to swipe up to delete it.</p><p>Welp. Better own it, then.</p><p>'&lt;3'</p><p>'go ahead with the shower, i'm not super hungry. laundry needs done, anyway.'</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was taking off his shirt and the jeans he'd uselessly just put on when he heard his phone vibrate, preemptively assuming that John wouldn't have much of an issue with waiting. When he picked up his phone, starting across the hall in just his boxers when he looked down at the messages.</p><p>Dirk had the luxury of seeing the second one before the first; he'd just crossed the threshold of the bathroom when he saw the little text heart. Dave had seen Dirk in his boxers plenty of times, but the image of that alongside the way his face heated up like he'd just gotten a fucking <em>nude</em> wouldn't have been a flattering combination.</p><p>A heart? Platonic, surely. Probably? Was there something Dirk had been missing? Definitely not. He and John barely qualified as friends at this point, there wasn't room for much else. Roxy sent him hearts all the time, and she wasn't in love with him. It didn't have to mean anything.</p><p>...Fuck, was he supposed to type one back? Would it be shitty not to? His fingers hovered over the keys for a few minutes too long as he was left reeling at the cutesy little symbol on his screen.</p><p>'I'll text you when I'm thirty minutes out.'</p><p>Dirk was playing with the waistband of his boxers, needing something to occupy his fidgeting hands. After a few more seconds, he typed out the '&lt;3', pressed send, and left his phone on the bathroom counter as he hopped in the shower.</p><p> </p><p>There's nothing for a few minutes, and John feels his belly twist in the growing anxiety that he's made it awkward from just one slip of the thumb. He stands, gathering everything that needed washed and tucking it all into his hamper. Cleaning up earlier had helped, but he's been putting off laundry til the last minute for about a month now, only ever making the trek downstairs when there was no more room left. It's the same this time, and he's glad Dirk gave him the chance with his shower. And of course that's why he must be taking so long to reply, right?</p><p>There's a response when John's halfway down the hall, and it takes some clumsy maneuvering to brace the full hamper on his hip so he can pull out his phone to read it. It was a perfectly casual reply, and his shoulders slump with ease. Then the heart pops up just beneath and what the <em>hell</em> did that mean? What does that <em>mean</em>, Dirk?!</p><p>Was he mocking him somehow in return? Did he not realize his text heart was a teasing one? Why would he send one back? The conundrum keeps John posted up like that for a good two or three minutes, frozen in the hall with his arm and lower back starting to ache from holding the heavy weight on his hip for so long. When he's able to catch his breath, not even aware he had trouble with it in the first place, he shoots out a little 'cool, thanks!' and stuffs his phone into his pocket so he can finally shift the hamper back into his arms.</p><p>He is determined to not make this weird. When he passes by his neighbor's door, he latches on to the distraction desperately - he still needed to talk to that guy. Yeah, maybe he'd swing by for a visit later. Yeah... John continues on his path to the laundry room and doesn't let his brain confuse him any more.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk thinks he made a good call with that response. Heart for heart, right? He would have seemed like a dick without returning one of his own. He heard his phone vibrate on the bathroom counter and had the immediate urge to reach a wet hand out and check it. He resists the urge. A waterlogged phone was the last thing he needed right now.</p><p>He spends the better part of the next hour showering a bit more jittery than he might have liked, but still manages to squeeze in his mindless tile staring regardless. He carefully styles and blow dries his hair once he was done, and it isn't met with any complaining from Dave this time. He wonders if he was even home today, considering he hadn't spotted him and Karkat on the futon the night before, as had become customary every other night. They didn't make much of a habit of going places without the other, unless they had to.</p><p>Relationships were weird.</p><p>Dirk finally picked up his phone once he'd finished with his hair, and luckily didn't see John calling him an idiot for sending a stupid heart back to him.</p><p>'Thirty minutes. Don't forget the pineapple.'</p><p> </p><p>He's almost done with laundry by the time Dirk responds. It's a bit busier than he usually likes, but thanks to having absolutely 0 sorting or organization, dumping as much into the machines as he can, he can do it all in two loads. The last one is taking... a little longer to dry fully, so he spends his time folding the first while he waits.</p><p>He plucks the phone from his pocket, eyes the damn heart again, before responding.</p><p>'look, i'll tell them hawaiian and if they leave anything out, it's on them. not me.'</p><p>'i'll see you soon.'</p><p>Texts sent, he calls the pizza place and orders a large half Hawaiian, half pepperoni lovers, and begs them to keep the toppings as clearly separated as they can.</p><p>He doesn't bother folding the rest, stuffing the clothes back in the hamper once the other load is finished before carrying it upstairs. He can fold on the coffee table like usual while he waits.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was in the parking lot of John's apartment building 28 minutes later, idling his truck as he sent a last minute text to Dave, just to let him know he'd be out of the apartment for a while, and to stall an extra minute.</p><p>Recently, Dirk had modified his shades to show a clock (one of many plans he had for the glasses now that he'd been able to achieve it) and developed a bit of a complex for punctuality. There was something of a challenge posed by watching the seconds tick down before a deadline.</p><p>Anyway.</p><p>He knocked on John's door right on time, give or take a couple seconds (one second), hands tucked into his pockets. As he waited, he found his eyes drawn to the door down the hall that he remembered John's neighbor coming out of.</p><p>He wondered if John had run into him again lately.</p><p> </p><p>'Fold the clothes' <em>might</em> have been his objective at the time, but what it became was 'dump the unfolded clothes on the coffee table and mindlessly push them around while antagonizing over the possibility that this attempt might go down the drain as well', so by the time the knock came at the door, John had barely done much more than what had been done downstairs already.</p><p>He shoves the remainder of unfolded clothes back in the hamper and layers the done ones on top, slipping the whole thing along the side of the couch and hopefully out of view - as long as Dirk doesn't try to walk too far into the apartment - as he shuffles over to the door. He acknowledges that it could just be the pizza and his panic is unfounded, but of course it's Dirk.</p><p>John smiles, eyebrows twitching down when he notices an odd glare in his shades. He glances back through his apartment but finds no source, so he shrugs and believes it to be a trick of the light. "Hey. Pizza isn't here yet, so I hope you didn't bring your appetite."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's eyes shift from the door down the hall to the one in front of him as it opens up, and reaches up to nudge his shades. The clock minimizes, the glare from his shades disappearing as he looks down at John.</p><p>"No appetite here. Just a starving, malnourished body, neglected by an absent pizza."</p><p> </p><p>John squints as the glare just... disappears, despite nothing changing around them. He leans up, first darting a glance down to the end of the hall to see if the pizza person was here and Dirk was looking at him, but there's nothing. So he look a little more closely at the shades.</p><p>"Uh huh. Well, it's not my fault they're late. Your nasty pizza will be here soon." He lifts a hand to point directly in his face. "What was that?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk blinks, leaning back a bit as John points at his face. It took him a second or two to put the pieces together and figure out what John meant.</p><p>"You weren't supposed to see that." He reaches up as if to adjust his shades, but simply takes them off instead, tapping the lower brim with the back of his finger to show the time again as he offers them to John. "It's a just clock I installed to the shades. All the hardware is in the arms."</p><p>He gestures to a small addition to the arm of his shades as he brushes past John to step into his apartment. "I'm testing the waters for a new project."</p><p> </p><p>He's already half-rolling his eyes, expecting a brushoff and preparing himself to be an annoying shit until his curiosity is sated. But then Dirk is freely telling him, and John's surprise is clear. He takes the glasses carefully into his hands, bringing them close to his face before brightening in realization.</p><p>"Oh shit, this is cool!" He slots the arms of the shades carefully against the arms of his own, wearing them overtop so he can appreciate it properly. John slips back inside as well, closing the door while fully focused on the clock in his vision. "Oh my god, Dirk."</p><p>He's well aware now that he's only moments from becoming a cooing fanboy, so instead of continuing to gush about how cool it was he laughs, cheeks a little pink under the weird shape made by both of their layered glasses. "That's- that's really cool, man. Can I ask about the project or is it super secret?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk is very aware of the way John's praise settles warmly somewhere in his chest, fanning his pride and petting his ego. He already knew the tech was pretty cool, (maybe that was narcissistic on his part rather than objective fact, it was just a clock, after all, Strider) but hearing it from John was... hm.</p><p>It was nice.</p><p>He watches as John puts on his shades - <em>Was John blushing?</em> - that warmth inside him spreading. Dirk adamantly fights back a smile.</p><p>"It's a secret. Though, unless you have intentions of stealing my future patent, I might be able to offer you a few breadcrumbs to sate the curiosity." Dirk seems to consider his next words carefully. "Have you ever owned a smart watch?"</p><p> </p><p>John raises his eyebrows, both curious at the secret and charmed that Dirk is telling him anyway. "Nah, never saw the point. I didn't really like the feel of the watch band digging into my bony wrist when I was a teenager, so I don't mind having to use one hand to use my smartphone. Are you making smart-glasses? That's awesome man! And like. The actual literal meaning of the word; I'm kind of in awe. Good luck getting your prototype back from me, though."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk quirks a brow at that, failing to suppress the amusement on his face.</p><p>"Whether or not I'm working on some tech that could potentially resemble that of a smart watch notwithstanding, I'd appreciate it if you didn't hijack the merchandise before it's even on the shelves." Dirk reaches out his hand to try and take the modded shades from John's face.</p><p> </p><p>"Is it actually gonna be on the shelves? Are you gonna market it and everything? God, are they all gonna be shaped <em>like this</em>?" John leans away, stepping back against the door. "Aw come on. Don't I look cool?" He purposefully exaggerates his overbite, big front teeth digging into his lower lip as he fights a smirk.</p><p> </p><p>"Kamina shades are to coolness what nose piercings are to attractiveness. Of course you look fucking cool, John, buck teeth included, even. If I did take the gargantuan risk involved with investing in a smart shade empire, they wouldn't be shaped as anything less." Dirk takes the bait, taking a step further as John backed himself against the door. "Realistically, I'll just patent the code and the tech inside. It's what I've done with all of my other work."</p><p>He reaches for the shades again.</p><p> </p><p>John rolls his eyes, then pouts when he realizes it isn't even visible. He ducks out of the way of the hand, but he doesnt exactly have much more room to go other than 'down', bending his knees to be as short as possible. "Okay but if everyone wore them, then you wouldn't be a hipster anymore. You'd be a <em>tool</em>, Dirk. Wouldn't matter that you were the first, or the one who made them.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's eyes follow John down as he sinks downward, his stomach giving a little flop that he knew the meaning of very well. He elects to ignore it, in favor of taking a small step back, away from John. Giving up the fight, or at least, it seemed like it.</p><p>"Couldn't have that. <em>You're</em> a tool, and it's remarkable that it hasn't stopped me from cultivating our broship."</p><p> </p><p>"Wow! Asshole!" John smiles and straightens up, not seeing anything strange about the situation other than Dirk giving up so easily. Like. Bizarrely easily. He sidesteps and adjusts the frames, squinting through the darkened lenses. "So these are mine now."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't make a move to snatch them again, simply pocketing his hands and glancing over his shoulder into the living room.</p><p>"Sure they are," he murmurs, eyes idly scanning the coffee table. "I guess I have no choice but to abandon my work and start from scratch on a back up pair. Unless you'd rather me mod your normal glasses for you instead. Not sure how long you can survive without them, though."</p><p> </p><p>As curious as he was to see how he looks with the pointed glasses on his face, it wasn't as fun when Dirk wasn't trying to get them back. "Haha, wow. A tempting offer. That would be pretty cool, but you're right. I'd be useless without them, and I hate contacts."</p><p>It takes some wrangling to untangle the arms of the glasses from one another - especially careful as to not damage Dirk's - but John lifts them off to offer them back. "They don't really suit me after all."</p><p> </p><p>"You didn't even see yourself. They looked fine, man. I told you - kamina shades boost coolness. Even on you, despite your coolness residing somewhere deep within the negatives." Dirk says, taking the shades back once they were offered to him, and slipping them on his face again. It was a lot easier to get them back than he was expecting. Turns out disinterest was the easiest path to John's dissent. He'd have to keep that in mind.</p><p> </p><p>"Sure, sure. So Kamina shades and a nose piercing will get me to my ultimate form, then? Max hotness <em>and</em> coolness according to you?" John rolls his eyes, smile dimming now that the play was over. He takes two steps toward the couch before there's a knock at the door that makes him jolt, but he pulls out his wallet as he greets the pizza delivery person.</p><p>After paying and tipping, John closes the door and holds the box out. "Fuck, I hope they kept it separate."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk seems to consider that for a moment, imagining John with said piercing and shades. The end result was admittedly pretty goofy, in the endearing way it always was with John. He opens his mouth to respond, but lets it fall shut when he hears the knock at the door.</p><p>He takes the box from John once he'd paid for the pizza and shut the door, balancing it on a forearm to open it up and peer inside. The pizza was, as typical with most any half and half pizza, <em>mostly</em> divided - in a way that it was obvious it would have been perfectly separate if it were cut correctly. As it was, two slices on the pizza had a mix of both toppings.</p><p>"Define <em>separate.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh fuck..." John steps up, craving his neck to peer over Dirk's shoulder. His face falls. "Those <em>bastards</em>. They did that on purpose." He sighs and falls backward in the couch dramatically. "Well I hope you're hungry because you get three-fourths of a pizza all to yourself. Maybe I should have asked for it to be cut into squares instead."</p><p>Almost as soon as he's on the couch, he hops back up to head to the kitchen area because he forgot the drinks. "I just got a two liter of soda unless you want a water bottle instead? No oj, sorry."</p><p> </p><p>"Soda's fine." Dirk walks over, placing the box on the coffee table and having a seat on the couch. He reminded himself that John was weird about the distance, so he made sure to sit closer to the middle, rather than the arm.</p><p>"Have you even tried the Hawaiian, or are you a hater out of principle?"</p><p> </p><p>Two tall glasses in one hand and the neck of an unopened bottle in the other, John heads back to the couch. This time he's the one to put some distance between them, not quite up on the arm but as far over as he could be while still looking casual. "I'd tell you I'm allergic to pineapple but that feels shitty. I just really don't like it. But I'm also a hater out of principle." John pours two glasses for them before holding out he remote.</p><p>"Didn't really have anything planned for today."</p><p> </p><p>"As long as you've actually tried it, and you're not just bullshitting for the fun of it, I can grow to accept the inevitability." Dirk murmurs, taking the remote from John before opening up the pizza box where it sat.</p><p>"MLP? Or, would you rather delve into your shitty taste in movies?"</p><p> </p><p>"I haven't actually tried the pizza but I'm absolutely not going to." He plucks out one of the untainted slices and settles back into the cushions. "We can watch the show." He still wasn't actually interested, but friendship was about compromise sometimes. John wanted to hang out so they should do what Dirk wanted. Anything to get things to start going right again.</p><p>"Feel free to tell me all about which ones are your favorites."</p><p> </p><p>"I'll pass for now. Unlike you, I don't intend to talk through the entire show. Rainbow Dash is my favorite. But you knew that already, didn't you?" Dirk says, grabbing a slice of pizza and taking a bite. John was right to call him out on his relationship with Hawaiian - it started out of spite and turned into genuine interest. Much like his attachment to cartoon ponies, actually.</p><p>"You should try a bite of Hawaiian."</p><p> </p><p>John laughs, not bothering to deny his talkative nature. But then a few emotions flicker over his face, cutting off the sound. "Ah... right. Obviously." He smiles and leans against the arm as he eats.</p><p>"I'd rather not waste an entire slice after taking a bite and hating it though."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk turned his head to look at him, offering the slice of pizza he'd just bitten into. It was visibly sort of awkward given then space in between them, so Dirk scooted a bit closer to compensate as he held out the slice.</p><p>"You wouldn't be wasting a slice, man. Here."</p><p> </p><p>The offer is the last thing he expects, doubly so when it's Dirk's own slice that's held out. John eyes it for a moment, eyes narrowed; he can already tell he won't like it, but something about the idea of sharing food with Dirk like this makes his pulse flutter in his chest. So he holds in his grimace and leans to take a bite, right where Dirk had already eaten from.</p><p>He bites right through the middle of a pineapple chunk and the fibrous fruit hangs onto itself, resting on his lower lip as he pulls away. John's eyes flick up to Dirk and, with a wince, he pulls the rest into his mouth with his tongue. John eats quietly, doing his best to mask his disgust up until he swallows. "That's terrible, dude."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watches him take the bite, making a valiant effort not to stare at his mouth as he did, waiting impatiently for any sort of break in John's mask - good or bad. His eyes were focused on the way John's tongue darted out to pull pineapple into his mouth (valiant efforts failed) when his face scrunched in his disgust, and Dirk breathed a sigh.</p><p>"Fuck, John. I thought I had you this time. I need to stop getting my hopes up. Your horrible taste seriously knows no bounds." Dirk takes another bite of the slice, scooting back towards his side of the couch.</p><p> </p><p>John laughs and washes down the taste after pouring himself a glass. It does some unpleasant things in his mouth for the first few seconds but eventually it goes away. "Hate to break it to you, dude, but I think <em>you're</em> the one with bad taste in this instance." He watches him move away, and the little hope he had that he was using the chance to get closer snuffs out. "But I'll bite off my sides of the bad slices."</p><p> </p><p>"It's good, man. You don't know what you're talking about."</p><p>Dirk leans forward and leaves the crust in the box once he finishes a slice, grabbing the bottle of soda and following John's lead in pouring up. The remote had settled beside his thigh, and he might have over complicated the gesture to grab it in order to scoot a bit closer to John. He navigated to start up an episode of MLP, throwing his free arm over the back of the couch.</p><p>It wasn't the most obvious way to reach out, but his side was there for the snuggling. If John was into that, of course.</p><p>"Let me know if you want to watch something else. Although, I can't imagine why you would ever pass up an opportunity to indulge in some choice television."</p><p> </p><p>John finishes his first slice and immediately starts on the second, not really aware of Dirk getting closer. The arm across the back of the couch was certainly tempting, but he's sure the offer is only there when John is upset. Leaning into Dirk now would probably be uncomfortable for him.</p><p>"I think I'll survive your 'choice' television. Barely." He leans back in his seat so he can smile up at Dirk, hair brushing his arm.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk returns the smile with the signature ghost of his own, and turns his attention to the TV. He wasn't too put off that John wasn't jumping to cuddle up next to him. If anything, he might have been more likely to think too much about it if John <em>did</em> immediately take the opportunity.</p><p>As it was, he was comfortable like this. It was easy to settle in and watch the show, the silence between them more casual than awkward as Dirk chose episodes at random to show John - not seeming to keep his word when it came to valuing continuity - skipping around the series with his own little bits of logic that he explained to John as he went. They were just starting Dirk's third pick of the afternoon when he offered John more of said justification.</p><p>"This episode is objectively filler, but it has enough value to warrant not skipping it entirely."</p><p> </p><p>The show was cute, but not really John's thing. Listening to Dirk talk about it, though, even just the little bits to fill him in, made it worth it. He spent more time watching Dirk through his peripherals than the actual screen, glancing over whenever a cheery voice or loud noise drew his attention.</p><p>As the time drew on, John kept his offer to bite away the sides of the split pizza, leaving the gross half in the box for Dirk. He got more and more comfortable until he was curled into the corner of the couch, resting his chin on his elbow and facing more toward his friend than the screen.</p><p>"Yeah? What do you like about it?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk finished the half of John's rejected pizza slices like a proper raccoon, but all things considered, his half of the pizza still went largely uneaten. Not because he didn't love Hawaiian, of course, just because of his bird like eating habits.</p><p>He noticed that John hadn't moved closer, but he'd turned his body to face him at some point, making the way his eyes kept darting to Dirk much more obvious. He... wasn't sure why that was happening. Maybe silent judgement. He shifted his arm where it still laid on the back of the couch, bending it at the elbow to let his wrist hang over the cushion and moving to face John a bit more, mirroring his posture.</p><p>"Character development, obviously. This show wouldn't be half as entertaining if everypony stayed exactly the same throughout. Like I said. It's filler, but it's simultaneously important for the audience to see the transitional phases of a character arc." Dirk shrugs a shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>He glances at how Dirk's hand drapes itself down from the top of the couch, lips curved into a little smile. His knees bend, legs tucking up beside him with his socked feet pressing in that space between the cushion and the padded back in an attempt to get more comfortable so he can easily watch Dirk.</p><p>When he speaks, John has to firmly press his fingertips against his lower lip to keep from saying something - Dirk was starting to talk like the characters in the show and it was kind of adorable. John wonders if he's done it on purpose or if he even realizes it, but he last thing he wants is Dirk to think he's laughing at him. That would ruin the hangout probably.</p><p>"Yeah I- I think I get it. Cute."</p><p> </p><p><em>Cute</em> wasn't the word Dirk might have chosen to describe a character arc. Were they talking about the same thing? It had him glancing over at John from where his eyes had traveled over to the screen. His hand was over his mouth for some reason, and it was obvious that he was smiling. Hiding it, maybe? Why, though?</p><p>"What's cute about it? It's just good writing, man."</p><p> </p><p>His lips curl even more because Dirk didn't even realize he did it. That, or he just thinks it was completely normal. Both options were sweet. "Sure, dude. That was what I meant. Nothing else."</p><p>John turns to face forward again, shifting a little closer to Dirk in the process. "So is the blue one your favorite, then?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watches him with an odd look for a moment or two, but he doesn't press. Why was John just grinning at him like that? Had he said something? He decides to let it go, mentally noting the strange behavior in his mind for later - mostly because it's very obvious to him when John scoots closer, with the way he'd been scrutinizing him.</p><p>"I haven't seen any pony that more blatantly appears to suit the name <em>Rainbow Dash,</em> so, weird to remark on her blueness rather than her literal rainbow mane and cutie mark - but yes, to answer your question. She's my favorite. She's spunky and lovable."</p><p>Dirk shifts on the couch, mirroring John to scoot closer to him.</p><p> </p><p>His knee bumps into Dirks, and John feels his mouth twitch up into a softer smile. "She's mostly blue. So she's the blue one. Sorry for not acknowledging her rainbowness since it's such an apparent affront, dude." John considers many things - pointing out her negative traits just to be an asshole, asking what else he likes about her, mentioning his favorite color is blue, bringing up his safeword... they all would be appropriate and they all would have an equal chance of happening if he was back to normal.</p><p>"What if I said I liked the orange one?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wasn't touching John except for that brief knock of their knees, yet it still felt stupidly intimate despite the complete innocence of the contact. It made Dirk's stomach flip from something like anticipation, at least.</p><p>Christ, maybe he was touch starved.</p><p>He kept his knee against John's, but stayed put on the couch. "Applejack is a decent choice. I wouldn't fault you for it."</p><p> </p><p>[[At this point the site had to be set back, and we last a few replies. Both of us agreed that rewriting sucks and is dumb so we just continued without it. The basics of what we lost was John said he didn't really care that much and implied it was the color he chose her for, then said he probably would pick Pinkie Pie or Rarity if he were serious, and Dirk said Applejack was better than both of them. Then John asked if the show went on as long as it did just to make money, and then asked if it was okay that he was touching Dirk when he tried to slip an arm along the back of the couch. Nothing too interesting or loaded, I promise.]]</p><p> </p><p>"Yes. That was exactly the case, to absolutely no one's surprise." There was a pause after that, as Dirk seemed to consider John's next words.</p><p>"I wouldn't be letting you do it if I wasn't cool with it." Dirk says simply, his eyes averting to the TV for a brief moment before he forces them back. Communication, Strider. Eye-Shades contact. It was important.</p><p>"I've only been hesitant because I didn't want to fuck up some invisible boundary we'd set after everything." Dirk does not elaborate on <em>everything.</em> "But we're good."</p><p> </p><p>John smiles and nods because really, he already knew the answer. "Ya hate to see it, dude." But his smile falls, just a little, because was that really true? Dirk seemed to let a lot of things happen to him that he shouldn't be 'cool with'. "Yeah." He doesn't know what to say about ... the rest of that, boundaries and all, and before he can spiral back down in a way Dirk might notice, John sighs like he's relieved.</p><p>"Thank fuck, because in case you haven't noticed man, I am kind of short! And it's getting a little awkward reaching. My pinky's numb." His arm drops from the couch, but instead of wrapping it around his back or pulling away completely, John just drapes his wrist over the shoulder he's leaning against, elbow bent behind Dirk's arm.</p><p> </p><p>"Should I slouch for you?" Dirk shifts a bit where he sat, and while he was mostly joking, he wouldn't exactly be opposed to being the one with his head on John's shoulder. It was a win/win either way.</p><p>He sinks down a bit on the couch, his ass right on the edge as he slouches to be more level height with John. "How's this?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh my god..." At first he rolls his eyes, pulling his hand away to make a point, but when Dirk isn't kidding, John does his best to stifle incredulous laughter. He watches the other man shift and scrunch up, wncing in sympathy for his back.</p><p>"Kind of patronizing, but thanks? Don't worry about it though, I was good where we were. I don't think your spine can take too much of that anyway." John taps his arm gently before scooting to the side, closer to the arm of the couch so he can tuck his feet up beneath himself, sitting on his hands.</p><p> </p><p>"It's not patronizing. You're short. We can both see that." Dirk sits up anyway though, a little smirk gracing his lips. He was admittedly a little disappointed that John moved away - but reminded himself there was no need to be worried. They'd managed to breach the subject, and establish that touching wasn't an issue. Which meant that <em>not</em> touching was just as much of a non-issue. Yeah.</p><p> </p><p>John returns the smirk with an exaggerated sulk, lips pursed and pushing out. "Alright, captain obvious. God. That's such an old phrase. Why did I <em>say</em> that?" He throws himself back against the arm of the couch dramatically, pushing his feet out so he's almost posed like 'one of his French girls'. "You aren't even watching the show anymore!"</p><p> </p><p>"You're not watching it either, smartass." Dirk grabs one of John's feet, pushing it off the couch and onto the floor, just to upset his posture. "You've been too busy making fun of me, and trying to seduce me with your delicate shoulder touches."</p><p> </p><p>"No shit, it's <em>your</em> favorite. I'm just along for the ride." John grunts as his foot hits the floor, hips twisted awkwardly to try and recover. It leaves him almost flat on his back, legs spread and bending backward over the arm of the couch. Pretty damn undignified. John's other foot kicks out to push at Dirk's thigh, but not enough to actually hurt or move him.</p><p>"What a jerk. And I thought your ears were your weak spot."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk gives John quick once over when he was on his back that made him grateful for his shades. He was still learning to keep his eyes to himself, apparently. He moves his thigh away from John's kicking foot, scooting a couple of inches away.</p><p>"My ears have nothing to do with this, Egbert." Dirk quips.</p><p> </p><p>"Uh huh. Sure. But if I wanted to <em>seduce you</em>, those are what I'd go for. Shoulder touches are platonic as hell." He almost continues before thinking maaaaybe protesting too much would be a bad look. So John kicks out again, stretching to reach before laying comfortably on his back, propped up on the arm.</p><p>"Hey, thanks man."</p><p> </p><p>"You act like my ears are a fucking on switch, man. That's not how it works. Not really, anyway." Except, it sort of was, wasn't it? Dirk shakes the thought of John's mouth on his ear out of his head.</p><p>Dirk doesn't have much room to move away with John stretched out like this, and has to take the kick to his leg. Despite how short he was, this couch wasn't <em>that</em> long.</p><p>"Thanks for what?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not saying that I expect you to go, like. Full mast if I pinch your earlobe like a button or something. I have <em>some</em> tact, dude." He smirks down the couch at Dirk before realizing just how much room he was acually taking, then draws his legs up, bent at the knee. He kind of forgot that just because his feet can't reach the other arm when he's resting his shoulders on one end, that doesn't mean there's enough room for someone else.</p><p>"Just. Being here. I'd probably be uh. A lot worse off still without you."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk scoots away from the arm of the couch once John draws his legs back in, sitting back in the comfortable divot he was in before John decided to sprawl out everywhere.</p><p>He turns his head to look at him properly, shrugging his shoulder, and offering a light nudge to John's knee with his elbow. "No problem, man. That's what friends are for. You shouldn't have to feel like shit forever."</p><p> </p><p>John grunts, noncommittal, and nudges his thigh with his toes. "Sure." He stares down at his legs for a moment longer before rolling back up into a sitting position and lifting the last slice of pizza that still had pepperoni on it, eating the good side. "So. Any other important parts I should watch in your kid's show, or are we good with horses for a while?"</p><p>His eyebrows bounce up as he remembers, ah, he should dig for info while he can. "Sorry you didn't get to ride the ponies at the mall, by the way. Since it's apparently such a big thing for you."</p><p> </p><p>"We can watch something else. Your constant antagonism of good television must be getting exhausting." Dirk grabs the remote and offers it to John, setting it on his knee.</p><p>"I got a set of phallic studs out of the trip, which is what really mattered, isn't it?" Dirk grabs his soda to take a sip as he spoke. "The carousel might have only been a bigger deal if you cost me a greeting with actual ponies, rather than fabricated ones."</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't actually have anything in mind, so he set the remote on the table, letting the show play as he turns more toward Dirk. "Yeah, that's what was important. Remember you promised to wear them for a month for me." His lips quirk into a sly smile, and John tilts his head back onto the couch.</p><p>"Yeah? What would have happened? Never-speak-to-me-again levels? Less severe? <em>More</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm good for it. I haven't taken them out since I got them."</p><p>At the next question, Dirk shrugs his shoulders, actually answering John without the bullshitting, for once. "I've never seen a pony in person, so it's not entirely fair to gauge my reaction without exposure. I would have been upset, at the very least. Not sure why there would be horses in a mall in the first place, though."</p><p> </p><p>"Mmh. Okay man. I'll try to never stand between you and real horses." John pats a hand over Dirk's knee and takes a drink from his condensation-coated glass, smiling into it. He <em>really</em> hopes he can pull this off, just for the look on Dirk's face. Maybe he can convince him to lose his shades on the way there, if it works out.</p><p>He sits like that for a few silent minutes, lost in thought, before he snaps back out of it. Hopefully Dirk didn't say anything. ... He yanks his hand off of Dirk's knee and settles into the couch. "How've you been, though? I think I've kinda been making it about me for a while."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk didn't mind the touch on his knee. That didn't mean he couldn't feel the palpable awkwardness that arose with every second John left it there - <em>way</em> past what was socially acceptable, and that was coming from an abject hermit like Dirk - though. He glances over to John a few times from behind his shades, more out of confusion than anything, and it didn't take much to see that this <em>wasn't</em> some sudden come-on - John was just completely out of it. What he was actually <em>thinking</em>, though, was a whole different monster that Dirk didn't understand.</p><p>He looks away quickly when John snaps out of it, putting his forgotten soda back on the coffee table after he takes another sip just to occupy his mouth for a few seconds and appear a little more like he wasn't just trying to solve some sort of mystery involving John's train of thought.</p><p>"...No big deal. It's more interesting to talk about you. I don't have much to say about me. I've only been working on some commissions, and my shades." He purposefully does not mention the new developments with Dave, despite them being conversationally relevant. He knew better - he wasn't risking that until the end of their hangout.</p><p> </p><p>That actually manages a surprised little snort out of John. "Wow, yeah, <em>way</em> more interesting to talk about the big fat nothing I've got going on instead of your <em>robots and smart-shades</em>. Totally." But he realizes it may just be that Dirk doesn't want to talk about himself, and he respects that. The floor is still open for him, just in case.</p><p>"I mean I guess if you think I'm so interesting, what do you wanna talk about?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk opens his mouth, but quickly realizes he doesn't actually <em>have</em> any idea what to ask. Even after everything, Dirk feels like he doesn't know John very well. What did he do for fun? Who did he even hang out with, besides Dave? What did he do for <em>work</em>? Dirk wasn't great at this new friendship thing, apparently.</p><p>Maybe they were both boring people. Though, there might have been one thing that he was curious about that didn't overstep the Dave Boundary.</p><p>"How's your neighbor? The horse guy. You said you miraculously managed not to scare him off upon first contact."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk looks like he's about to ask something, but hesitates. This sits a little uneasy in John's belly, and he can feel his expression tense up in anticipation of something heavy or something he doesn't want to hear. But when he finally asks, it's obviously nothing like what he was expecting.</p><p>After a few more seconds of visible confusion, John shrugs. "Uh. He's alright I guess? He doesn't really hang around long enough for smalltalk, haha. Whenever I try talking to him he just pulls himself up like he's trying to intimidate me with his size, but his face goes all twisty and sweaty, so I think he's just shy."</p><p> </p><p>"Or nervous. Maybe he's into you."</p><p>Fuck, what? Why did he say that?</p><p>"I could be wrong. But I mean, think about it logically, man. If the guy squares up to you, he's probably just flexing. The guy was ripped, if I remember correctly." No, stop digging this hole. What the fuck was he doing with his mouth, this isn't what he wanted. "He's... I don't know. Maybe not. You said he reminds you of me, but I'd like to think I'm a lot smoother on than end. So, you could be right after all."</p><p>That was worse, somehow, and the least effective way of gathering info on the guy. He was just going to stop talking.</p><p> </p><p>He can't help it - John laughs. It's mild and obviously surprised, a flush blooming across his face. "Uh. I dunno, man. His body language was less 'tense because I have a crush' and more 'tense because some asshole keeps trying to talk to me'. But maybe I'm just bad at reading body language." The guy <em>was</em> ripped, and John feels a tiny, almost insignificant little twist of something low in his belly when Dirk remembered after so long and such a short meeting.</p><p>But whatever, Dirk could do whatever he wanted. He doesn't let himself feel... nervous about bringing them together. That was stupid. They were <em>friends</em>.</p><p>"You're really not that smooth. But whatever. I don't think he's into me, but he isn't my type anyway."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk huffed a chuckle through his nose.</p><p>Not his type. Dirk elected to ignore the implications of what that meant, after John had said he and the neighbor had so much in common. It shouldn't have mattered regardless. It <em>didn't</em> matter regardless.</p><p>"You have a type?"</p><p> </p><p>"No offense, dude, but that's kind of a dumb question." John keeps his tone light, mainly to prevent any actual offense being taken, but also to avoid Dirk making the connection that John was still into him. Not that he was being particularly subtle, but he didn't want to drive one of his other friends away because of a dumb mistake.</p><p>"Everyone has a type. But I guess this is more like me not being into the type that he is. I'm a complicated man, Dirk. I like a lot of things in people."</p><p> </p><p>"It was meant to be mostly rhetorical. A conversation starter, since I've stupidly been handed the torch here." Dirk says defensively, because he's incapable of handling the thought of John thinking he was asking something dumb, even if he was joking.</p><p>"Let me rephrase. Why <em>isn't</em> he your type? Not into muscle guys? Or is it the sweaty thing you mentioned?" Dirk felt like he was doing the thing again. The thing where he asked too many questions about John's neighbor, for some inexplicable reason.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Okay, sure. But I kind of figured you'd know more about 'my type' by now." John bounces his eyebrows, distracted suddenly by a loud, shrill sound from the show still playing. Dirk keeps asking about this guy, and he doesn't know if he... likes that. But whatever. It was a stupid thing to get jealous about. Maybe they'd ... really hit it off.</p><p>"Yeah, uh. I dunno. There's just no, like. Connection, or whatever. He's hot I guess, but I'm not really that into him."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt stupidly reassured about that. John was allowed to have friends - there was nothing stopping him, certainly not Dirk. The way that John had compared Dirk to his neighbor, though, had really gotten under his skin. He... wasn't sure how he'd feel if John had something romantic with him for that reason entirely. (Mostly?)</p><p>The fact that it wasn't going to happen got the worm out of his head, at least. Though, it was replaced with another one when he caught the playful quirk of John's eyebrows.</p><p>"I know enough. Why do you think I asked? You said we were similar."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, you have a lot in common, from what I know about him. But that doesn't make him <em>you</em>, dummy." When he takes a moment to really think about what he's said, John shrugs and buries his face into his glass, draining it to avoid eye contact. He was getting stupid again.</p><p>"Do you want me to ask of he's single? It'll probably take a month of harassing him in the hall to get it out of him, but it'd be a fun challenge." His eyes stay locked firmly on his glass as he refills his drink with the near-tepid soda.</p><p> </p><p>Oh.</p><p>Dirk glances over to John for a second as he downs his drink, and feels for a split second that he's missing something incredibly obvious right in front of his face. The hand on his knee earlier, and now this? But, Dirk had to be wrong. Naive, probably, to think that John still had feelings for him after everything that happened. How much he'd fucked shit up with him.</p><p>No. That couldn't be right.</p><p>"I guess it doesn't. But, I thought you just said you weren't into him. Why would you ask if he's single?"</p><p> </p><p>John purses his lips as he settles back on the couch, wondering if he misunderstood the interest in his neighbor after all. But why else would Dirk keep asking about him? "I... I mean, I guess I just kinda assumed, uh. Nah, forget it." If Dirk was uninterested or just shy, it wasn't John's business.</p><p>He'd still do his best to be a good friend if Dirk wanted to hook up - John could play a decent wingman - but shoving someone else onto him would just be uncomfortable for everyone involved. It'd be fine.</p><p>"You wanna fill me in on the show here, or do you think we're good?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's brows quirk upward when John chooses to change the subject, but he doesn't press. He wonders if he'd somehow managed to misunderstand John's attraction to the guy, though. Was he playing coy with him, or something?</p><p>Instead, Dirk turns his attention back to the TV - they were already nearing the end of another episode, though, they hadn't even watched this one for the most part.</p><p>"We're good. This episode wasn't one of the best."</p><p> </p><p>"If you say so, dude. I trust your judgment. ...Well, like. As much as I can, anyway, considering what you're into." John smirks, getting his ribbing across, glad the subject was dropped. He tries to pay attention to the next episode, but when it loses his attention pretty quickly, they switch over to a game instead. And while John liked to think he was pretty good at Smash, he didn't really anticipate what it'd be like playing with Dirk.</p><p>After his third loss (and only one win), John throws himself back against the couch - he hadn't even realized he'd been hunched forward like a gargoyle. "Jesus. I don't know how, but you're definitely cheating." He snags the now fully-lukewarm soda and takes a swig straight from the bottle, tossing the controller down beside himself.</p><p>"I don't know <em>why</em> I thought this would be a good idea!"</p><p> </p><p>He didn't mind the migration from MLP to video games - he knew John wasn't really into the show, and Dirk always felt more comfortable when he had something to occupy his hands with anyway. In this case, his hands were occupied with kicking John's ass in Super Smash Bros. Dirk could be... alarmingly competitive when it came down to it, but he wasn't much of a gloater.</p><p>But as he watches John down his soda like it's a shot, and couldn't help the smirk that tugged up the corner of his mouth.</p><p>"You didn't realize that it wasn't a good idea after the first time I demolished your ass with Sheik?"</p><p> </p><p>John takes another swig, almost like it could either help him play better or stop him from being a big baby about losing. He wasn't a sore loser, but damn. He was getting <em>demolished</em>. His hand flutters dismissively as he wipes his mouth and catches his breath after the deep pull. "Yeah yeah, whatever. It's just a case of 'guest luck', don't get cocky."</p><p>Arms lift above his head so he can stretch out his back, spine curving, and John resituates himself. As soon as the controller is back in his hand, he hunches all over again. "I'll get you this time."</p><p> </p><p>"If you're claiming you could beat me at my place instead of yours, I'll take that challenge. You're going to have to prove your skills this round, though. Gotta say, man. It's not lookin' good." Dirk sits up a bit, resituating himself on the couch as he prepared for another round.</p><p>Or, at least, he started to. Dirk felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, alerting him to a text, and he pulls it out to check. Dave was asking if he was coming home anytime soon, because he and Karkat ordered food.</p><p>It was time to go.</p><p>From the beginning, Dirk planned on using Dave as an out when he was leaving, just for the chance to breach the subject with John. Now he didn't even have to stretch the truth.</p><p>He had a really nice time with John. So knowing that he was about to shit on his mood was the worst part. But, at the same time, Dirk had a chance, and he knew it needed to be done. For both of their sakes. He <em>knew</em> he could fix this. Maybe John would even take it better this time.</p><p>Only one way to find out.</p><p>"Actually. I might have to tap out with that last win. Dave ordered Chinese, apparently."</p><p> </p><p>He's thankful that Dirk turns his attention back to the screen when he does, so he'd hopefully miss the way John's face twisted. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth to hide his discomfort, already trying to come up with a way to backpedal just in case that was a serious offer.</p><p>Before he can try though, he's busy with his phone. John takes the moment to relax, slipping back into a comfortable, neutral expression.</p><p>Only to fall flat once more. He guesses he should have seen it coming, and a small, angry little part of him wonders if it was all faked just to bring Dave up again. John's knee bounces, heel tapping the floor. "Yeah. You should head out." Chinese directly after a pizza was definitely a choice, but whatever. "Hey, it was fun. See you later."</p><p> </p><p>"It was. Text me if you want a rematch." Dirk says, sending Dave a quick response. Once he'd pocketed his phone again, he looks back to John. He doesn't get up.</p><p>Instead, he pushes his shades up into his hair. Eye-Shades contact wouldn't cut it this time - he needed to show John he was serious about this one way or another. Lay on a bit more pressure. Test his limits.</p><p>"...He misses you, you know. Don't you think it's time to reach out? It's been over a month."</p><p> </p><p>"Sure." He keeps his attention on the controller in his hand; having something to fiddle with felt more comfortable right now. But the silence stretches on, and Dirk makes no move to stand. If it had been before the... he couldn't even really call it a <em>fight</em>, because there wasn't any fighting involved. Before the falling out, John might have thought Dirk lingering was a good thing. But the sight of Dirk, shades out of the way as he looked at him, only felt like an icy dread growing in his stomach.</p><p>His shoulders hunch, and the blow comes. "Jesus..." John looks away, and his body curls in on itself just a bit. "I'm not-" He <em>can't</em> be the one to 'reach out' here. Pressuring someone to be friends with you if they don't want it would only make things worse, and John kind of hoped Dirk understood that after all these little jabs and needling.</p><p>Apparently not. Fingers push up behind his glasses for a moment, trying to relieve some of the tension with pressure. "Dirk. What the fuck, man? What are you doing?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk could tell that John was tense, but he was <em>listening.</em> It was better than nothing, and gave him the chance that he'd been looking for. John would come to understand Dirk's point, and all Dirk had to do then was get Dave on board too. He'd fix this, good as new, and vow to himself to never let his presence fuck shit up between them ever again. They needed this.</p><p>"I'm trying to help. You and Dave have both been miserable for weeks, and avoiding each other isn't helping anything. You need to talk about this if you want to fix anything." Dirk says, his expression unreadable. "You miss him too. Don't you?"</p><p> </p><p>"You're not- This isn't <em>helping</em>, Dirk! Do you think I <em>want</em> a constant reminder that my best friend hates me?!" His hands push up into his hair, knocking his glasses off into his lap. "Because that's kind of all you are lately. You can't just let it drop!" John isn't yelling, but he also can't quite keep his tone down, and it's embarrassing how he's starting to lose control so easily, which is only building up the high-strung emotions.</p><p>"You're <em>not</em> helping, man. If you want it to get better you gotta stop poking at the wound, jesus!"</p><p> </p><p>Okay, so he wasn't taking this well. Dirk probably should have expected this; In retrospect it was sort of idiotic to think John would be swayed so easily. But it wasn't too late to get him back in his corner. He still had a chance. Dirk's expression doesn't change, still looking at John calmly.</p><p>"I'm not trying to make you feel shitty, John. I'm telling you that you can fix this, if you would just talk to him face to face. I'm not going to stand by and let the two of you fall the fuck apart without an intervention."</p><p> </p><p>"No, Dirk. That's... That isn't how it works!" The placid way he's looking at John feels wrong somehow, like he's completely disconnected from the situation. Which, at first John brushes away because Dirk was <em>too</em> involved in the situation. But now, suddenly, it starts to make sense. Maybe he <em>was</em> disconnected, and that's why Dirk thinks all this shit is okay to do.</p><p>"You can't just shove two people together and hope that works, Dirk! Especially not in a situation like this. I hurt you, and I lost Dave's trust! Me being around him won't change that. And... And it's kind of shitty and underhanded to keep bringing him up around me, if you thought that would somehow help. All it did was make things hurt even more."</p><p> </p><p>This wasn't going according to plan whatsoever. Mostly because what John was saying was sort of starting to make some sense.</p><p>It was never Dirk's intention to hurt John, or make him upset. He'd just grown to see it as an unfortunate side effect of what he'd been trying to accomplish between him and Dave. A... necessary step.</p><p>Dirk opens his mouth, then closes it. His lips purse, and the flash of contemplation over his face is the first break in his calm composure.</p><p>"...I'm not trying to shove you together. I just think that it would be in both of your best interests to talk some shit out."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>What the fuck</em>..." It's barely more than a whisper. John slips his fingers up into his hair, tugging as he tries to put his thoughts into words that Dirk might make sense of, because he's treating this like emotion and pain aren't factors. "Goddamn, Dirk, this isn't some weird inter-office squabble! I fucked up, and Dave found out, and things aren't just going to get better because you want them to! People don't work like that!"</p><p>He stands and starts cleaning off the coffee table just to have something to do. "You can't just push us together and expect that to make everything cool again."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk follows John's lead, getting up off the couch because staying seated sort of made him feel like a child getting scolded. John might have been making some sort of sense for a moment or two, but he was starting to lose Dirk again. Because, since when did people <em>not</em> work like that? He <em>knew</em> that Dave and John could be okay again. But John wasn't hearing it.</p><p>Dirk was careful with his next words.</p><p>"I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I'm not pushing you together. That's not what this is, John. I'm <em>recommending</em> that you talk to him. You and I have talked this, and we're fine. What would make Dave's situation any different, if he's willing to hear you out?"</p><p> </p><p>He straightens up with an arm full of garbage and glass, and John wishes he hadn't picked them up because he suddenly feels like throwing them down again out of frustration. "You are absolutely trying to push us together! You're not recommending because if this was 'just recommending', then you'd <em>stop</em> when I don't take it!"</p><p>He fills his lungs, then releases the air in a forced rush, because the last thing he wanted to do was say something nasty and end up hurting Dirk again. So he spins and crosses the threshold into the kitchenette to toss the trash and set the glasses in the sink. Without even turning to check, John assumes Dirk followed him.</p><p>"Dave's situation is different from yours because he actually cares what happens to you."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't try to defend himself about his 'recommendation,' partially because it would only rile John up, and partially because John had turned on his heel and left him in the living room. Fine, maybe pushing Dave and John together was exactly what he was doing. But Dirk had his reasons. Entirely <em>valid</em> reasons, in his own opinion. He was just doing a shitty job at convincing John.</p><p>He follows after him to the kitchen, starting to say something else before John suddenly speaks up again, and... what? Dirk frowns, not entirely sure what to make of that comment.</p><p>"What is that supposed to mean?"</p><p> </p><p>John's teeth clench, giving his jaw a mulish set. Which was unintentionally fitting, because he stubbornly refuses to turn around. He doesn't say anything right away, rinsing out the glasses so he has a believable reason for not turning around. They'd already touched on this a bit, right after the whole thing went down, and Dirk didn't seem to really take it to heart then either. So he doesn't expect anything to come from it this time.</p><p>Still. John frowns as he turns to finally face him. "Did you forgive me so easily because you think I'm an okay person, or because you don't care since you were the one it happened to?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk stares at John's back in that long moment of silence, and when he gets the question, he only tacks on several more. This was the second time John had brought this up, and just the same as before, it had Dirk recoiling into himself, a prickle of shame warming the back of his neck. He holds his ground.</p><p>"It was a shitty mistake, but you're a good person. You know that, and so does Dave."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, so what if it happened to someone else? What if someone did that to someone you care a lot about?" John shuts off the faucet and wipes his hands on his shirt, not taking his eyes off of Dirk even long enough to find the handtowel hanging off the oven handle.</p><p>He walks up close, almost right in Dirk's space, holding eye contact with an intense expression. "Then how would you feel?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk knew when he'd been cornered. He stands up a bit straighter when John walks up close to him, all expression wiped clear from his face. If it weren't an incredibly obvious out, he would have dropped his shades right back over his face.</p><p>"What are you trying to accomplish here? This isn't about me, and deflecting doesn't change the fact that you need to make an effort with Dave."</p><p> </p><p>"So you admit you don't care about yourself." John steps just a bit closer, head craned back to keep staring. "This <em>is</em> about you. No, you're not at fault here at <em>all</em>, but you need to acknowledge that it's not as easy to forgive the situation as it was for you, no matter what you think!"</p><p>Somehow, he had to get this through to Dirk. And who knew, maybe it'd just make him realize John is shitty after all, but that didn't <em>matter</em>. Dirk needed to understand. "You have people who care about you, so when they get mad for your sake, it means you're important! Don't let people get away with hurting you, man. And don't try to brush off their anger; Dave has every fucking right to hate me for what I did, and trying to make him forgive me before he's ready just undermines his love for you! Or. Something. Fuck." He feels like he's losing track of his words - this sorta stuff wasn't his strong suit, but John is desperate for Dirk to realize he's worth it.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was suddenly feeling intensely uncomfortable. Somehow John had managed to turn this discussion completely on its head, and Dirk felt even more cornered than he had before - a spotlight shining right on him.</p><p>"It's not like that. You're reading this entire situation the wrong way." The defense was weak, but it was the best Dirk could come up with since John seemed determined to ignore his logic. Dirk had planned this entire confrontation about Dave in advance, and gone through every path of argument that John could have given. Yet, somehow, this was completely unexpected, <em>and</em> the worst case scenario.</p><p>Because John wasn't angry at him. He felt <em>sorry</em> for him. Fuck's sake.</p><p> </p><p>"Then answer me. What would you do if someone did what I did to Dave?" It's getting to a point where John feels like he might try to leave, and this is too important to just walk away from, but holding his arm felt aggressive. So John curls his fingers in the hem of Dirk's shirt, tugging just a little.</p><p>"And what if Dave said he was cool with it? And he <em>meant</em> it? Even if the person who did it was someone else you were close to, what would you do?"</p><p> </p><p>John would have been right that Dirk was ready to abscond. So right, in fact, that just before Dirk could have moved to take a step back, John's hand was grabbing onto his shirt, holding him in place.</p><p>He could have argued that John <em>didn't</em> do what he did to Dave, so it wasn't a fair comparison. But that would have just proved John's point for him, wouldn't it?</p><p>That tingling shame he felt was starting to turn into something like frustration, and he inwardly chided himself for letting his composure get so fucked up over this. He should have been able to hold his own. He looks away from John.</p><p>"Let go of my shirt."</p><p> </p><p>The fact that this is starting to feel like a win sits heavy and sour in John's stomach, but he's going to see this through. "Not until you answer me." When Dirk looks away, John pushes himself in the direction of the gaze again. "You'd hate that person, right? No matter how much Dave told you it was fine. So trying to push you into being friends again would suck. <em>Right</em>?"</p><p>But this was only half the problem. And not even the important half. "You'd hate that person because Dave is important to you... You're important to him too. And a lot of other people! So when you act like something bad happening to you doesn't matter, it fucking sucks." His fingers tighten in the fabric. "You matter, okay? So if you can't like. Care about yourself, at least let other people do it for you. Dave's <em>right</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk goes out of his way to keep his eyes off of John, and feels himself starting to shut down. John was prodding at territory that Dirk very adamantly kept deep inside, under lock and key. It was a lot easier not to think about it. He <em>never</em> thought about it. And it was incredibly fucking unpleasant when it was forced upon him. First by Dave, and now by John.</p><p>At the very least, they had solidarity in believing that Dirk was fucking pathetic.</p><p>Dirk takes hold of John's wrist, not applying much pressure, but just enough to let him know he would wrench him away if he had to.</p><p>"Fine. I won't bring it up again. I'm going home."</p><p> </p><p>John almost, like an idiot, wraps his hand around the back of Dirk's head to try and guide him into looking, but he realizes how terrible an idea that would be and aborts with his hand hovering between them. Instead, he curls it around Dirk's wrist in a bizarre version of the stacking game.</p><p>"No, don't go. Don't shut me out! You can hate me and everything after, but you need to listen, okay? And like <em>actually</em> hear me! You're important, Dirk! You matter!"</p><p> </p><p>There was a long moment where Dirk said nothing.</p><p>Then his eyes traveled back to John and he spoke up, his voice flat and cold. "This narrative you're spinning in your head to pity me serves no purpose whatsoever. You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know me. At all."</p><p>Dirk punctuates his statement by yanking John's hand off his shirt and wrangling his wrist away, using the opportunity to step out of the kitchen and turn his back on him. He lets his shades drop from his hair, back over his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>He'd made the mistake of thinking that the silence might have been a good sign. That it might have meant Dirk was processing everything. And when Dirk looked at him, John felt... almost hopeful. But that almost empty tone snapped him out of it enough for Dirk to easily break his hold, and John scrambles for his hand.</p><p>"It isn't pity, man, it's concern! I <em>like</em> you, Dirk! I don't want someone else to do something nasty to you just for you to be okay with it! And-" John skitters around him again, trying to get in front of him before he tries to leave. "Come on, I know you a <em>little</em>, right?" Once he thinks he's in his eyeline - hard to tell with the glasses in the way again - John's lips quirk in an unsure little smile.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't give John the chance to take his hand, jerking it away when he felt his fingers on his skin. He was done with this. He couldn't be here anymore, listening to John say all of these things about him, and express his <em>concern.</em></p><p>He stops just briefly when John steps in front of him, long enough to look down and meet his eyes through the protection of his shades. Deep down he knew it was hurting John that he wouldn't listen right now. He never wanted to hurt him. But he also didn't feel as if he had a choice.</p><p>"No. You don't."</p><p>Dirk side steps John, making a beeline for the front door and swiftly stepping into his shoes, grabbing his keys.</p><p> </p><p>The smile falls off his face, and John almost doesn't follow. He knows it's important to let people get their space, but if Dirk left now... Well. Maybe he really didn't know Dirk at all. That was fine. But he's not about to let this potentially be the last time he ever sees him without at least offering just a little bit of comfort.</p><p>John doesn't say anything else yet, just licks his lips and jogs up behind Dirk before he can rip the door open. He winds his arms around Dirk's waist, careful not to pin his arms down, and squeezes tight around his midsection, forehead bumping up between his shoulderblades. The urge to pick him up like this is pretty strong, but maybe it wasn't a good idea. "Don't go."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's hand was on the doorknob when he felt John's arms wrap around him from behind, and he knew that John easily could have kept him there for as long as he wanted, with his strength.</p><p>So, Dirk didn't protest. He didn't do much of anything. He stood still, and let John bury his face in his back. Patient, and unmoving. His hand was still on the knob.</p><p>He was silent.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't try to leave, but he doesn't really seem like he's doing it by choice. Which, honestly, makes John feel worse. He keeps his face pressed into Dirk's back, glasses digging uncomfortably into the bridge of his nose, and he tightens his grip into a squeeze before letting his arms go slack. Still loosely wound around him, but enough to easily to pull away.</p><p>"Please. I need you to hear this, Dirk. If you leave, I feel like you'll never want to see me again and you'll forget everything I said."</p><p> </p><p>When John's arms loosen around him, Dirk takes the chance to step out of his grasp, and pull open the door. He doesn't immediately step out.</p><p>He hadn't given much thought to what this confrontation meant for their friendship. He was more preoccupied with escaping - not engaging, and getting to his truck as soon as physically possible. Dirk wasn't angry with John. He hadn't been angry with Dave, either. If anything, Dirk was angry at himself.</p><p>He should have been better at keeping all of these stupid, shameful imperfections hidden. Especially from the two of them.</p><p>He wants to reassure John. To tell him that this didn't have to be the end of anything, if he kept his nose out of places it didn't belong. But he couldn't say that. John's intentions were good, even if he'd been suckered into caring about such a fuck up like Dirk. Even if John was better off without him.</p><p>Dirk tears his eyes away from John after a long few seconds, stepping out of his apartment and shutting the door behind him.</p><p> </p><p>He pulls away as soon as he gets the chance, and John tries not to feel bad about that. It was his best shot - he tried, but it wasn't enough. And that was fine; they weren't that close anyway so it's not like he could reasonably expect a heart-to-heart to go well, especially since John's the reason it was so fucked up to begin with.</p><p>He doesn't look up once during those long several moments, staring at the space between their feet until Dirk leaves, and John presses his fists against his eyes. "Okay." He paces the floor around the front door a few times, trying to decide what to do. He kind of wants to go after him, but that would probably drive the wedge further between them. Then he wants to clean the house to have something to focus on, but there was a more important option that he was trying to work himself up to doing.</p><p>Several minutes after Dirk leaves, he pulls his phone from his pocket and opens the message between himself and Dave for the first time in a month. His hands shake as he clears the chat history, unable to bring himself to read it again, and he hopes his number isn't blocked.</p><p>'can you check on dirk when he gets home? he's not doing too good.'</p><p> </p><p>Dave was on the futon with Karkat, halfway finished with some lo mein and half an hour into Failure to Launch, when he got the text. He'd halfway expected the buzz of his phone to be Dirk again, asking if he got extra fortune cookies like he always did when they got take out. But instead, the contact name on his screen was one he hadn't seen for a month. He would have ignored it entirely if he didn't catch Dirk's name mentioned in the preview message on his lock screen. He opens the message, reading it once, twice, three times.</p><p>It didn't sit well.</p><p>Dave glanced briefly over to Karkat, completely enraptured by whatever the shitty plot of this romcom even was, before putting down his takeout box and slouching against the back of the futon, phone in hand.</p><p>'what did you do'</p><p> </p><p>Okay. Yeah. That was fair. There's a sharpness burrowing into his chest that he knows he deserves. Especially now that he felt like their whole family hated him. Maybe he should go find their shitty older brother to complete the set. If there was anyone who would give John the punch to the mouth that he deserved, it'd be that asshole.</p><p>'we were talking, and i took it too far i think. he won't hear it from me, so can you just tell him he matters?'</p><p> </p><p>'tell him he matters</p><p>what the fuck did you even say to him jesus christ'</p><p>Dave was having a hard time getting a read on what John was saying. He couldn't tell if he'd mentally need to add <em>emotional abuser</em> to John's glowing track record, or if this was... something else. What, he didn't know.</p><p>All he did know was that Dirk didn't upset easily.</p><p> </p><p>'goddamn dude, just TALK to him, okay?'</p><p>Keeping the conversation as short as possible was the best option here; it didn't seem like Dirk knew what he was fucking talking about - Dave still hated him, and the last thing he needed right now was to swoop further back into depression after finally starting to claw his way out, and pissing Dirk off was already getting him to feel pretty low again.</p><p> </p><p>'fine'</p><p>It's all Dave sends back in his annoyance, sitting up properly on the couch and grabbing his takeout box again. He was just getting back into the movie, about ten minutes after that last text, when Dirk came through the front door.</p><p>Dave glanced over the back of the couch, calling out a greeting, but his brother didn't even give Dave much of an opportunity to get a good look at him. He made a beeline down the hallway, closing his bedroom door shut behind him and clicking the lock. Karkat's attention had been pulled from the screen when Dirk came in, and shared an inquisitive glance with Dave. He simply shrugged his shoulder, getting up off the couch to follow him.</p><p>Dave went to Dirk's door with a handful of fortune cookies and a box of fried rice, rapping his knuckles on the wood as he spoke to him through the door.</p><p>"Hey, man. You forgot your Chinese." He starts, and is met with a stony silence from behind the door. "...Dirk, are you okay?"</p><p>Still no answer. Dirk was either pretending not to hear him, or had immediately put his headphones on. "Okay, I'll leave your food on the floor, I guess." Dave tries the taunt, knowing that Dirk had always been weird about it, but gets just as much silence in return as he had before. Dave frowns.</p><p>He heads back for the kitchen and puts the rice into the fridge, pulling his phone out of his pocket to text John.</p><p>'hes locked in his room and not talking to me</p><p>gonna need some more info if you want me to fix whatever bullshit you started'</p><p> </p><p>He didn't expect more out of the conversation, figuring Dave would have it under control. So now all John had left to do was to stress and worry about him. His phone stays on the counter as he cleans, puttering around his apartment to find something that needs to be done to distract himself.</p><p>When his phone pings again, he wants to ignore it, stay lost in his own world for a while, but the idea that it could be Dirk is too much of a risk to not answer after all that. But instead, there's an accusatory message from Dave.</p><p>'why didn't you stop him? he needs you to talk to him right now, dave!'</p><p> </p><p>'do i need to break down what "hes not talking to me" means or are you purposefully acting like you cant read</p><p>i wasnt going to jump on his ass as soon as he came in</p><p>karkat is right here</p><p>and even if he wasnt it would have pissed dirk off more</p><p>what did you say to him'</p><p>Dave elects to stay in the kitchen for this text exchange, leaning back against the countertop - he didn't want to bring whatever this was up to Karkat until he actually knew what the hell was even going on in the first place. He didn't need to be caught in the middle.</p><p> </p><p>Of course not. Obviously he wouldn't take anything John said seriously. He really didn't want to deal with this right now, with Dave accusing him and thinking the worst. But he guesses, in a way, Dirk got what he wanted. They were talking again.</p><p>'jesus, i know you still hate me and i was a sleazy bastard but could you give me at least some credit? it doesn't matter what i said, you wouldn't believe me anyway. he just needs you right now, okay?'</p><p> </p><p>'god damn it john</p><p>why would i give you credit when the first time you text me in a month is to tell me you made dirk upset'</p><p>Dave looks up from his phone, glancing towards the hall, and to Dirk's door. As much as he resented John right now, he knew he was probably right. It had to have been serious, if he was reaching out to him like this. He breathes a sigh through his nose.</p><p>'ill try again'</p><p>Dave pockets his phone, padding into the living room to lean over the back of the futon. He tells Karkat that shit was apparently getting real, and to finish the movie without him, if he wanted. They could rewatch it, since he knew it was one of Karkat's favorites that he'd been wanting to show him. Maybe another time.</p><p>He presses a quick kiss to Karkat's cheek before he could chew him out about avoiding another romcom, since this seemed to be a trend at this point, and started back down the hall for Dirk's room.</p><p>"Dirk! Bro, I know something's wrong. Can we talk? You're sort of freaking me out here, man." Dave stood in silence, before pressing his ear to the door. He could hear the vaguest metal clank of something being set down on the top of Dirk's workbench. No headphones, then. Dirk didn't wear them when he worked. "Listen, John texted me. I don't know what went down, but he's making it sound serious and I really don't want to have to break into your goddamn room just to make sure you're not crafting some weapon of torture to beat his ass with." Dave jokes weakly, his ear still to the door. There wasn't any sound this time. "...Dirk?"</p><p>There was almost a full minute of nothing before Dave started to take out his phone again, most likely to grill John, when he felt it vibrate in his hand. He expected it to be John. It was not.</p><p>
  <em>'I'm not talking about it. Give me some space.'</em>
</p><p>Dave frowns at the orange text, quickly typing out a response before Dirk could turn off his phone, or something equally as isolating.</p><p>'ok thats cool i get it</p><p>but listen for a sec</p><p>john told me to tell you that you matter</p><p>i dont know what the fuck he said to you to make you call that into question but its true</p><p>you know that right'</p><p>There wasn't another response for nearly ten more minutes, in which time Dave sat down on the floor in front of Dirk's door.</p><p>
  <em>'John wasn't being an asshole.'</em>
</p><p>It was the last text he got before his next message wouldn't send, and he knew Dirk had shut off his phone.</p><p>It was a few more minutes before Dave got up from the floor, closing Dirk's chat and reopening the one with John.</p><p>'i told him what you said he said</p><p>he needed space so im giving it to him'</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't say anything to that either, just sets his phone back down and worries. Maybe he'd gone too far. Dirk was just trying to get the two of them to talk again, and he had to fucking... launch some kind of emotional attack. He can't even remember how it got to that point.</p><p>It felt like a long time before his phone goes off again, and John waits for a few minutes before standing to check. He was hoping for good news.</p><p>'i really don't think space is what he needs right now. he might try to like... rationalize it all away.</p><p>it's cool that you're respecting boundaries and everything but honestly? I don't think dirk knows what the fuck he needs.'</p><p> </p><p>'wow okay listen</p><p>i get that youre worried about him or whatever but forcing him isnt going to help anything</p><p>so telling me to do some shit that i dont think is the right thing isnt going to change my mind</p><p>he doesnt like confrontation when it comes to shit like this'</p><p>Dave leaves the hall as he taps out the messages, joining Karkat on the futon as he fiddled with the remote. Seems like the movie was almost over. Or, maybe Karkat was getting the hint that this wasn't a situation he wanted to be coincidentally thrown ass first into. Regardless, it seemed like he was about to leave, so Dave helped him clean up the trash from the coffee table while he waited for John's response.</p><p> </p><p>'and leaving him alone all the damn time is probably how he got like this in the first place!'</p><p>He regrets it the moment he sends it. John knows he can't just make judgement calls like this about someone he barely knows.</p><p>
  <em>"You don't know me. At all."</em>
</p><p>Maybe he should just fuck off and let things go back to how they were before he messed it all up.</p><p>'he just needs to know people care about him. i guess you'd know more about how to do that.'</p><p> </p><p>'so is it my fault that dirk is the way he is because i respect his boundaries</p><p>or do i know what the fuck im doing since he practically fucking raised me</p><p>make up your mind and stop being a dick to me if were going to help him it isnt going to be like this'</p><p>Dave doesn't realize he'd typed that <em>we're</em> until he reads back his last message. He did like to think that he could handle this on his own, without John. But at the same time, John was there when Dirk got pissed. John knew what he'd done to upset Dirk, and it was his responsibility to deal with it. Dave's responsibility to help was by proxy.</p><p>The <em>we're</em> wasn't a stretch on that end. It was just that Dave wasn't sure he was too happy associating himself with John in general right now. He wouldn't be, if he hadn't gotten caught in the middle of this, and he didn't want John to get the wrong idea.</p><p>Though, he supposed his attitude was telling John more than enough already.</p><p>Dave kisses Karkat goodbye on his way out, promising to keep him in the loop, if there was any loop to even be kept in after tonight, and throws himself back down on the futon with a sigh.</p><p>The apartment was too quiet now.</p><p> </p><p>John notices the inclusion right away, but he knows better than to expect anything from it. It was John's fault Dirk got upset, so Dave just wasn't giving him an easy out.</p><p>'i'm not being a dick. forget it, you know what you're doing. pretty sure i've done enough, right?'</p><p>He considers texting Dirk, but worries he might make things worse, or come across as pushy. Maybe he should just turn off his phone and visit his dad for a week or something, because he sure as hell was pushing everyone else away at an astonishing rate. He sends a quick message to his dad, asking how he is and knowing he won't get a reply for a couple hours because he'd still be at work, but it's a good idea to get away for a while.</p><p> </p><p>'i mean yeah you have</p><p>but you also still havent told me what happened and i need to know</p><p>i can't help him if i dont know what's wrong'</p><p>Dave tips his head over the arm of the futon, looking down the hall upside down. Dirk wasn't coming out, he knew that, but he couldn't stop the compulsion to keep looking. Maybe breaking in wasn't the worst option. But he knew it would only mean he wouldn't get anything out of Dirk that way.</p><p> </p><p>'i just started telling him he shouldn't let people treat him badly, and that he was important to people.</p><p>it really freaked him out, i think. he got angry and left. he doesn't like attention being on him.'</p><p>John decides against telling Dave he was trying to push the two of them together; it might seem like he was pushing blame onto Dirk, or make Dave angry or uncomfortable.</p><p>'i'm sorry.'</p><p> </p><p>'oh</p><p>well that clears some things up at least'</p><p>Dave hadn't known what to think about the last thing Dirk had said to him. He'd always put up such a fight to defend John, and he didn't think that this time was any different. Though, this time it actually seemed warranted.</p><p>
  <em>John wasn't being an asshole.</em>
</p><p>Maybe this time it was true.</p><p>'hes probably embarrassed</p><p>he doesnt take shit like that well</p><p>hell get all defensive and weird about it</p><p>did he seem mad or just weird'</p><p> </p><p>'i'm pretty sure he was mad. he got all tense and quiet, but when i kept pressing, i feel like he kinda snapped a little.</p><p>he wasn't yelling or anything like that, but he was kind of mean and cold and he left.</p><p>so not just, like. overstimulated and uncomfortable, actually mad and upset.'</p><p> </p><p>'okay so</p><p>i guess the good news is i know what im dealing with now</p><p>but the bad news is that the same thing sort of happened with me and him a while back so i dont think hes gonna be down to talk about it with me either</p><p>like he wasnt as mad as he is now</p><p>but we fought about it until he changed the subject</p><p>dirks got a lot of pride about certain shit and he gets really fucking uncomfortable when he feels like youre feeling bad for him</p><p>because he thinks he can handle everything always which is obviously not true even though he wants you to believe it</p><p>i think its probably okay to give him space rn so he can cool off but we both need to talk to him sooner than later'</p><p> </p><p>Well, there went his plans to visit Dad.</p><p>'i really don't think he wants to talk to me.'</p><p>Hell, even Dave still talking to him was a surprise. But he knew that even if he still hated him, Dave loved his brother and would probably do anything to help him. Even work with John.</p><p>'i think you're his best bet. you are really important to him, and i'm just some asshole he's known for a few months. maybe i should leave for a while.'</p><p> </p><p>If it were any other time, Dave might have felt a lot more comfort at the thought of John staying away from Dirk for a while. But Dave knew, despite everything, that Dirk really fucking valued John. Stood up for him, even when he was very obviously in the fucking wrong. Dave wasn't thrilled about it. But Dirk had his reasons. Whatever they were.</p><p>'what no</p><p>you started this man you need to talk to him</p><p>if you dont hes going to get all fucked up about it and you know that'</p><p> </p><p>'i don't know him at all.'</p><p>A little melodramatic, but John couldn't ignore the guilt piling on. It really felt like the cons outweighed the pros when it came to Dirk and his' relationship.</p><p>'besides, i'd have to come over to see him. over the phone or text wouldn't mean as much, and i kind of doubt he wants to come over here again. what could i do anyway?'</p><p> </p><p>'maybe you dont but thats not the point</p><p>you could apologize for one</p><p>if what youre telling me is the whole story then i get you were just trying to help him</p><p>and i have reason to believe that he gets that too</p><p>but you pushed him too far and you need to talk about that</p><p>and he needs to stop being so fucking weird about this shit on his end</p><p>especially if hes going to keep being your friend after everything</p><p>ill let you know when you can come over</p><p>tomorrow maybe idk</p><p>i need to see how hes doing first if hell even let me'</p><p> </p><p>'what if he doesn't want to see me?</p><p>maybe it'd be better if i just fucked off for a bit.'</p><p>Actually going over there wasn't an ideal situation for John - the thought of seeing Dave in person, seeing whatever way he looked at him, or whether he looked at him at all, he didn't think he could be ready for that. And Dirk definitely didn't want to see him.</p><p>'it would probably be easier!'</p><p> </p><p>'john this isnt a request</p><p>im telling you that youre going to come over when i say its ok and talk to dirk</p><p>i shouldnt be the only one to deal with this and dirk shouldnt have to be the one to reach out first because hes not fucking going to with the way he is right now</p><p>you were the one that got in a fight with him and you cant just run away and pretend like it didnt happen while i fix it</p><p>jesus youre being just like him'</p><p> </p><p>'fine.</p><p>tell me when it's good to come over, then.'</p><p>Arguing was getting them nowhere, and only drawing out an uncomfortable moment. John didn't know what good could come out of seeing Dirk again, but if Dave said he should, he'd take the advice. He can't really deny that he wanted to check up on him anyway.</p><p> </p><p>'good</p><p>ill text you later</p><p>dont hold out for tomorrow im gonna try anyways but still'</p><p>Dave breathes an exhale through his nose, glancing down the hall again. He hops off the futon and pockets his phone, hesitating in the hall when he starts to pass Dirk's door. He knew he wasn't going to answer no matter what tonight, if he was as angry was Dave expected him to be.</p><p>So instead of trying again, Dave doubles back to the kitchen to grab a fortune cookie, leaving it on the floor in front of his door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay I'm cutting this one in half too because it is stretching on quite a bit. We weren't expecting this scene to be a big one but here we are. Pacimg things is so so important but boy sometimes you just want them to be happy again! (And maybe smooch some more once their issues are aired out and discussed)</p><p>Also I'm trying to be better about catching typos! So of you've seen any, PLEASE let me know! This is on any chapter, if anyone's made it this far at least. I still think the word count might be spooking people off. I think this is one of the longest things in the Dirk/John tag.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a few days before Dave sent the text to John. He couldn't confidently say that Dirk was feeling his best yet, because... well, he wasn't. Not even close to it, really. He still didn't say much to Dave if he talked at all, and stayed in his room for most of the day. Seems like his guess that Dirk would be pissed at him too wasn't totally off base.</p><p>But last night Dave had managed to get his brother to come out of his room, just long enough to have dinner with him. It was a good sign. But Dave knew he couldn't wait much longer letting this whole thing go unresolved. John needed to come over soon, even if Dirk wasn't completely ready. As much as Dave started to feel like an asshole for pushing him, what John had said to him before had gotten under his skin.</p><p>
  <em>Leaving him alone all the time is probably how he got like this in the first place.</em>
</p><p>He hated when John made a good point.</p><p>'hey</p><p>can you come over today</p><p>i think its probably time'</p><p> </p><p>The next few days were spent worrying and pacing when he wasn't busy. His dad replied, and John had to awkwardly explain his potential need to hideout for a little while if things went south. Which of course led to some playful back-and-forth about being a law-abiding citizen second and a supportive family member first, followed by the same support and love he could always count on from his father. Which, after the warmth faded, made John feel guilty.</p><p>What would his dad think of him if he found out what John did?</p><p>So all that just led into more stress and negativity until the messages finally came through. John showers and fills his churning stomach with some leftovers before heading over about an hour after getting the message. He doesn't bother replying to Dave until he's parked outside their apartment building.</p><p>'am i good to come in now?'</p><p> </p><p>Dave wasn't exactly expecting John to rush over, but he also wasn't expecting him to take so long either. Not without a text first, at least. He was starting to feel weirdly anxious about it all - he knew that if didn't go the way that he planned, that Dirk would be furious at him for even inviting John to the apartment. But, he liked to think that he knew Dirk, and what was best for him. He had to learn over time as the roles reversed between them, since Dirk wasn't exactly the best at <em>doing</em> what was best for him.</p><p>Even if Dave was still angry with John, he knew that the only way to fix this shit was to talk it out, despite both of them stubbornly wanting to avoid the possibility. Dirk would thank him for it, eventually. Probably.</p><p>When Dave finally gets the text, he practically leaps on his phone.</p><p>'yeah hes in his room still but listen</p><p>i didnt tell him you were coming because i knew he would flip out and try to leave or something</p><p>so dont like</p><p>be freaked out if hes freaked out</p><p>hes not angry anymore just all mopey and resigned i guess</p><p>hell be fine just try not to push him so hard this time</p><p>you know hes stupidly prideful of some shit and he hates looking weak</p><p>even though the way he sees being weak is just being a functioning human being that feels things'</p><p> </p><p>John's already starting up the stairs when the volley of messages come through, and when he pulls out his phone to check, he almost trips.</p><p>'holy shit dude, he doesn't know?!</p><p>dave, what the hell!'</p><p>He freezes, one foot higher than the other, and sincerely considers leaving.</p><p>'maybe you should tell him anyway? i can go back home and wait it out.'</p><p> </p><p>'no stop</p><p>just trust me okay its fine</p><p>hell freak out if i say something and itll just take you even longer to get through to him</p><p>he doesnt have to know i told you to come even</p><p>i mean unless he asks which he probably will but still'</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't say anything else until he's at their door, pacing once again. He should probably leave, but Dave was right - he at least owes an apology to Dirk for pressing so hard. Even if he still kind of thinks he had a point. Worst case scenario, neither of them wants to see him again, and that was most likely the case already, so what did he have to lose?</p><p>'okay, should i knock, or should it be quieter? is he out of his room?'</p><p> </p><p>Dave opens the door just a few seconds after he gets the text in favor of responding, stepping back for John to come inside. Karkat wasn't here this time, but Dave had obviously been lounging on the futon if the weird history channel documentary playing had anything to do with it.</p><p>"He's in his room still. Working on some project with his shades, I think, so his door is probably unlocked but like. Knock first, I guess?"</p><p> </p><p>It actually startles him, and John feels dumb for being so jumpy about this. Dave directs him, and he nods, not trying to make eye contact - or eye/shade contact - as he slips into the apartment. "Alright."</p><p>He keeps his voice low just in case before walking quietly to the hall where their rooms are. John hesitates only for another few seconds before holding his breath, knuckles rapping on the door.</p><p> </p><p>Unlike Dave, it took Dirk more than just a few seconds to get to the door. He hadn't been expecting the knock, since Dave knew he was busy and didn't make much of a habit of disturbing him. Especially not when he was already feeling like shit.</p><p>The last day with John hadn't turned out at all like he'd expected. He'd wanted to bridge the gap between John and Dave, finally, but instead his efforts had somehow been flipped completely and John put him on trial.</p><p>It only irked Dirk more that John had been right about everything.</p><p>He puts his soldering iron into the holder before standing from his desk, padding over to the door and pulling it open only enough to brusquely brush off Dave. That was the plan, at least.</p><p>"Dave, I told you I was... working."</p><p>Dirk went rigid, his expression one of surprise before it flattened quickly into that practiced stoicism - made even more obvious thanks to his shades being left under the lamp at his desk.</p><p>"What are you doing here?"</p><p> </p><p>The door opens, and the look that passes across Dirk's face before he shuts down makes something twist in his chest. It's too late with Dave - whether he would actually forgive him or not, or if things could ever be the same again between them was in his hands - but he realizes he doesn't want to be cut out of Dirk's life as well. Speaking of Dave, John feels acutely aware of his presence in the apartment, and it feels like his hair is standing on end, but he wouldn't dare ask to be let into Dirk's room.</p><p>Looks like he'd be doing this in the hallway.</p><p>"Hey, uh. Listen... I'm sorry about before. Not- not sorry for what I said, I meant all of it, but I probably... uh, no, I <em>definitely</em> pushed too hard. I want to apologize for flipping things on you so harshly. I was upset and it felt a little like I was being pressured to do something that wouldn't make a difference-"</p><p>He's not exactly rushing out his words, but John doesn't stop speaking until he's finished, eyes pinched closed just in case the door gets slammed in his face.</p><p>"I'm... I'm sorry."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk stares at John. He... hadn't been expecting an apology. He didn't think he deserved one, since he was the one acting like an obtuse asshole and brushing John off.</p><p>Fuck if it didn't make him feel a little better, though.</p><p>Dirk glances from John to the hallway behind him, because Dave was still home, and he wasn't entirely sure how much of this he'd heard already. If he knew Dave at all though, it was probably every word. He should probably keep this quick, or just pull John into his room.</p><p>"Yeah. Well."</p><p>Or, on second thought, he should probably figure out what the fuck he was even supposed to say to that first.</p><p>"...It's fine. Thanks." A brief pause, and his brows knit together for a split second. "I didn't think you would come here."</p><p> </p><p>Once he's finished talking, John opens his eyes. Dirk is silent for some time, and it's making him nervous, but he doesn't look pissed or hugely upset. He catches the quick glance and wonders if Dave is <em>right there</em> watching, but he doesn't take his eyes away from Dirk.</p><p>"Yeah, I uh. Me either. I didn't think I'd be welcome. Considering I pissed off everyone that lives here and all."John tries for a smile and takes a small step back. He wants to mention Dave, but feels like it might feel less genuine if Dirk finds out he made John come.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wasn't entirely sure where to go from here. He could have just told John to leave. It was a nice way to wrap things up, he supposed. But that didn't feel like the right move. Besides. There was something nagging at him anyway.</p><p>Dirk leans against his doorframe, feigning casual as he tilts his head a bit at John.</p><p>"I'm surprised Dave let you in. He told me you texted him a few days ago. About me."</p><p> </p><p>The abrupt stance change throws him off, makes him nervous. It feels kind of like Dirk is up to something.</p><p>"...Yeah. He said it was okay. He loves you a lot, to put up with me coming over." John shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest, feeling oddly defensive with Dirk looking so at ease after a moment like this.</p><p> </p><p>"I wasn't expecting you to actually reach out, either. You're full of surprises." Dirk says it dryly, but it was as genuine as it comes. Maybe their fight was good for something after all, other than baring Dirk's soul on a platter.</p><p>Leaning on the doorframe suddenly didn't feel right - <em>was he being awkward?</em> - and Dirk stood up properly again, folding his arms in a subconscious mimicry of John's stance. He couldn't think of anything else to say.</p><p>"..."</p><p> </p><p>In the telltale gesture of someone uncomfortable and with nothing they can say, John rubs the back of his neck, clutching his elbow. "Yeah, well. You know me-" There's a weird little attempt at laughter until he drops it, scowling down at the floor.</p><p>"I'm- are you uh. Okay?" Keep it light, don't come on too strong, now. Dirk wasn't leaning anymore, and John wonders if it's because he said something he didn't like. He takes another small step away. "I can go, if you want. I just wanted to apologize. And check in."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wasn't fazed at the awkward attempt at laughter, because he didn't feel much less awkward himself.</p><p>"I'm okay. I'm not angry with you. If that's what you're worried about." A pause, and Dirk shifted where he stood. Fidgeting, but he was able to pass it off as just shifting his weight. Did John want to talk? Is that what this was? Dirk appreciated the out, and considered taking it, but he somehow felt weirder about sending John home after just a few minutes when he'd made it through Dave just to get to him.</p><p>"Did you. Want to come in?"</p><p> </p><p>"That's not- well. That's only part of it, I guess. I was kind of <em>A Lot</em> and-" He remembers Dave's text, and then that part of their conversation where Dirk got upset when he thought he was being pitied, so he veers a little bit off what he had planned on saying to prevent it from happening again. "...And I guess I wanted to make sure you weren't like. Turning into a stoner again."</p><p>Stupid. That was so dumb. John rolls his eyes before snapping his attention back over with Dirk's invitation. "Uh. Is that okay? You said you were working so it's okay if you wanna talk later."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk actually huffs a slight laugh through his nose, mostly because fuck, he really wished John hadn't seen him like that, let alone remembered it. But also because he realizes in that moment he hadn't thought about Jake in quite a while. He almost couldn't believe he let that oaf fuck him up so severely, but his brain helpfully reminded him that he was mostly freaking out because he was angry at himself for moaning his name in John's bed.</p><p>Yeah. He was never going to let himself live that one down.</p><p>"Not yet. But we can smoke, if you want." Dirk says it as a stand in instead of reassuring John that it was okay for him to stay.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't really know what that laugh means, but if Dirk was still asking him to come in after several attempts to give him his space, then it had to mean it was cool, right? The pot thing would just have to be addressed while he was in there. John hopes he doesn't look nervous, but when he glances over his shoulder into the rest of the apartment, hopefully it's a believable misdirection.</p><p>"I don't think Dave would be <em>super</em> happy if I stayed with you for a while. But I'll take the invite if you're serious."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk quirks a brow. John was probably right about that. But at the same time, he would have left already if he thought Dave was that serious about kicking him out as soon as his business was done.</p><p>"It's fine. Dave isn't my keeper."</p><p> </p><p>John kind of disagrees with that, and his smirk probably makes it obvious, but he doesn't say anything. He just pushes his hands into his pockets and shrugs. "Alright. But I'm blaming you if he tries anything."</p><p>He has flashbacks of his dad insisting that the door had to stay open when he had someone in his room after a certain point, if he suspected John liked them, and for some reason the idea of Dave doing the same thing makes him laugh just a little. "I'll come in."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk steps away from the door, opening it wider so John could come in, and wouldn't hesitate to close it after him. The smell of weed always made Dave gag, so it was for his own benefit. And it would keep him from eavesdropping in the process. A win/win.</p><p>Dirk's room was a sort of organized chaos. Robotics half-finished or abandoned were scattered across both of the desks in his room, and some on the floor alongside a big bag of poly-fil. There was a single Rainbow Dash poster directly across from the door, and in an ideal world, it would have been the only thing on his wall just because it was funny. But, he needed a place to display his katanas. His bed was unmade, and his favorite puppet, Lil Cal, was sitting on one of Dirk's body pillows and leaning against the wall his bed was against, perfectly composed.</p><p>"Why are you grinning like that? He's not going to try anything."</p><p> </p><p>The door closing after him was only a mild distraction from the room itself - and John is both surprised and <em>not at all surprised</em> somehow at the same time. He takes his time standing in the middle of the room, taking everything in. Yeah, this pretty much summed up Dirk.</p><p>He honestly kind of feels like his own room is bland and boring in comparison, but most of his posters stayed at his childhood house, and he supposes when the whole apartment was his, he didn't have to concentrate all of his things in one room.</p><p>He starts outward the bed, only to stutter to a stop at the sight of the puppet and the... Horny anime character pillows. He'd... probably just stand, then. "Nice room."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk didn't seem to notice John's hesitance at sitting on the bed - Cal and his body pillows were some of those things he'd become so used to seeing, he didn't even remember to have an explanation ready. It's not like many people ever saw his room anyway.</p><p>He leaves John to look around to go grab his pipe from the drawer in his desk, along with a small baggie, and sits in his desk chair as he opens it up. He swivels it around to face John as he starts to pack the bowl, not wasting any time, apparently.</p><p>"Thanks. Don't touch the katanas. They're real."</p><p> </p><p>Wow, he sure wasn't wasting any time, huh? John swallows and looks back at the weird busty anime characters on Dirk's bed. He's definitely about to make a complete fool of himself. "Right, yeah. Of course they are." Obviously. Why wouldn't Dirk have real weapons on his wall?</p><p>"Uh. So, are you still working in the glasses?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, I was before you came in. They're coming along. Still too early for you to steal my first prototype though."</p><p>Dirk glances up briefly from the pipe to glance at John still standing in the middle of his room. Dirk was still feeling awkward himself, but at least he'd managed to distract himself and his hands with the pipe. "You can sit on my bed." Dirk nods over to it, as if John couldn't see it literally right there, and realizes suddenly why John might have been hesitating. "Cal doesn't bite. Neither do my pillows."</p><p> </p><p>"Damn. I'll get it one day though. Just you wait." He follows the direction to the bed with a very slight grimace, unnerved just a bit by that whole scene. But hed been invited into Dirk's room and he didn't wanna be rude or judgmental. "I'm less concerned about being bitten and more concerned with whatever you've done to those pillows, but whatever dude."</p><p>He settles himself on the edge of the bed, legs hanging down.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't respond to that one at first, just getting up from his desk to join John on the bed with his pipe and lighter. He was sort of eager to just... <em>do</em> something, and break up this weird small talk with something resembling natural. Dirk still wasn't sure if it had entirely sunk in that John was actually here right now, just a few days after their fight. It was quicker than they'd talked to each other after any of their other issues, and John even came with an apology. Dirk wasn't sure how to feel about it all.</p><p>"If I would have known you were coming, I would have provided a blacklight to make you more comfortable."</p><p> </p><p>"Gross." He smiles and scoots a bit over for him unnecessarily, giving Dirk his space while also eyeing the pipe. "I think I'd prefer to be kept in the dark about whatever you get up to with your beefy guy pillows."</p><p> </p><p>"Nothing that wouldn't warrant an X-rating."</p><p>Dirk purposefully didn't make it clear if he was kidding or not, instead bringing the pipe to his mouth as he flicks the lighter. After just a few seconds he was breathing a cloud of smoke through his nose, and passing the pipe nonchalantly to John, alongside the lighter.</p><p>"Have you smoked before?"</p><p> </p><p>John made the mistake of looking away to laugh while Dirk lit the pipe. Because when he passes it over, John has absolutely no idea how to even hold it, let alone smoke. He takes them in his hands clumsily but not hesitantly, and when Dirk asks, he's kind of relieved.</p><p>"Nope. Dad had this weird sense where if it wasn't pipe tobacco smoke, he could smell it a block away and he <em>hated</em> it. So I never bothered trying. It's not gonna make me, like. Do anything shitty, is it?"</p><p> </p><p>"Pot isn't like alcohol. For the most part, it just relaxes you and makes you a little dumber than usual. Just confused and prone to laugh a lot, in most cases. You'll cough at first." Dirk murmurs, watching John hold it sort of weirdly. He reaches over, turning it a bit in John's hand and tapping parts of the pipe with his finger as he talks.</p><p>"You inhale through here, and put your thumb over this. You'll need to light it while you inhale, otherwise it won't work."</p><p> </p><p>"You didn't seem very giggly." He didn't really seem any different than usual, from what John can remember. Other than slumming it, but that might not have been the weed. "Cool, can't wait to look like an idiot."</p><p>He adjusts his hands further, finding something comfortable after Dirk gives him some direction. He fumbles a little, clearly nervous and not really sure why. "I think it's pretty safe to say this isn't where I thought the day would end up."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't giggle." Dirk wasn't really lying about that. He was pretty sure he'd been the highest he'd ever been back then, and he was only a bit out of it. Alcohol was the only thing that was able to tear down Dirk's walls the most effectively. Weed just helped his nerves.</p><p>"If you don't want to, I'll put it away."</p><p> </p><p>"Shame." John cuts himself off from saying something like 'I bet it'd be cute' because he's still on unsure footing with everything, especially lately. "Uh. Nah, I'm just overthinking and kind of nervous about looking like a fucking fool."</p><p>He lifts the pipe to his lips, then frowns and lowers it again. "Any tips? I gotta hold it in for a bit, right?"</p><p> </p><p>"You'll be fine."</p><p>Dirk's eyes were on him, watching him carefully. He could tell that John was nervous even without the verbal confirmation, and the way he was staring at him so intently probably wasn't helping very much. He was mostly just preparing to catch the pipe if John fumbled somehow, or something.</p><p>"Just breathe in deep, and hold it as long as you can."</p><p> </p><p>John can feel his face heat, embarrassed and feeling like some dumb kid again. It didn't help that Dirk never looked away from him, and for the first time John found himself wishing he was wearing the shades.</p><p>He adjusts his grip, determined and not letting himself feel self-conscious as he flicks the lighter. The first pull goes about as well as you'd expect - he holds it in for a solid two seconds before coughing it back out. "Ugh, god..."</p><p> </p><p>"Ideally you'd want to try and hold for longer than that, when you don't have to cough. It gets easier." Dirk says, like it wasn't obvious enough. He holds out his hand for the pipe and lighter, and suddenly feels like one of those kids in the after school drug specials.</p><p>"You might need some water after that."</p><p> </p><p>He shoots Dirk a 'no shit' look before passing it over and watching how he does it instead. "I'm good." His voice is still a little haggard, but he'll survive. "Is this all you wanted to do when you asked me to come in?" Because honestly if all Dirk wanted to do was smoke, he'd probably just go home.</p><p>He wanted to <em>talk</em> to him.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk takes another drag instead of answering, holding it as long as he could get away with before sighing out the smoke. Why <em>did</em> he invite John in? He wasn't entirely sure how to answer that question with anything but the truth. He hadn't thought any of this out so far.</p><p>"I wasn't going to kick you out when you made it through Dave just to get to me."</p><p> </p><p>John watches, counts the seconds until the curl of smoke comes from him. He smiles, a little dryly, as he turns to face forward instead of staring at Dirk. "Ah. So you pitied me?" The toe of his shoe taps against the floor quietly as he stares at the only damn poster on the wall.</p><p>"...Huh. I mean if that was the only reason, I should probably go."</p><p> </p><p>"You don't have to go." Dirk says, not too quickly. He was quiet for a moment after that, glancing from John to the poster his eyes seemed to be affixed on. There wasn't much he could think of as an excuse for John to stay if he didn't want to.</p><p>Dirk wasn't much of a host - the best he could do in terms of entertainment right now would be to let John stare him while he worked on his shades.</p><p>But, John leaving right now didn't feel right. It seems like there was something Dirk was missing.</p><p> </p><p>"It's cool, I'm glad we're like. Still on speaking terms and everything." He doubts a single aborted toke would inhibit his driving, so John hops off the bed, checking that his phone was still in his pocket. "Text me when you've made more progress on those glasses, I wanna be a tester for that shit. I'll get some prescription sunglasses for you to mess around with. Maybe give you a good way to test motion sickness on curved lenses instead of your flat ones."</p><p> </p><p>Fuck, he was actually leaving just like that, wasn't he? Dirk watches John stand and quickly follows suit, setting the pipe on his nightstand absently. He pockets his hands.</p><p>"Yeah, that's... a good idea, actually. I'll take you up on it."</p><p>Dirk had the goodbye on the tip of his tongue, but it wasn't what ended up coming out, after an undeniably awkward silence.</p><p>"John?"</p><p> </p><p>"I have them sometimes." John fiddles with the hem of his short for a moment before turning toward the door. "I'll see you, then?" There's still a tension between them, and for once he can't be sure what the cause is. Before, it felt like just his unrequited attraction, but now it definitely felt like there was something else involved.</p><p>John manages one step toward the door when Dirk calls out. "Yeah?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm, uh-"</p><p>Not the best start. Dirk purses his lips, his eyes darting around for a brief moment before landing back on John. He stood up a bit straighter, but ended up looking away despite his best efforts. His brows knitted together as he found his words, speaking carefully.</p><p>"I thought about what you said last time." He manages to drag his eyes back to John. "I'm sorry for pushing the issue between you and Dave. It was fucked up of me to try and fix your relationship without even considering how you felt. Either of you."</p><p> </p><p>That tension increases when Dirk looks uncomfortable, and John entertains several thoughts of what he might be trying to tell him. Some good, most bad. He holds a curious smile through the silence, but when Dirk finally says what he's trying to say, John feels himself relax.</p><p>"You just wanted Dave to not be upset. I mean, it was hamfisted and a little pushy, but you had good intentions, man. Thank you."</p><p> </p><p>"It wasn't just about Dave. You were miserable over it." Dirk clarifies, and that smile John had been giving him made him feel weirdly sheepish. One of his hand fidgets in his pockets, picking at the skin around his thumb.</p><p>"I couldn't stand by and do nothing."</p><p> </p><p>His fidgeting returns, and John scratches at his elbow, suddenly unable to look at Dirk. He'd been so sure he ruined any chance at friendship that hearing Dirk care for him after all that was... He couldn't think of a word for it.</p><p>"Okay. But. You know it wasn't your fault, right? It <em>wasn't</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk blinks when John looks away, dropping his own gaze to the floor. He wondered if he'd somehow made John uncomfortable.</p><p>"Not <em>directly,</em> no, it wasn't. But it was still my responsibility to try and help the two of you reconcile."</p><p> </p><p>"No, dude, it wasn't your fault at all. It was mine." Okay, so he had to make sure not to press the issue too hard this time. Little bits, read his body language, and step back when it's too much. John was gonna do this right from now on. He walks up to Dirk and touches his wrist, just above where it disappears into his pocket. "You don't have any responsibility or obligation to this situation, alright?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt John touch his wrist, and was suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. He took them out of his pockets to feel like he wasn't standing so stiffly, but letting them hang by his sides wasn't much better. He opens his mouth, then closes it, still not coming up with anything meaningful to say. Maybe responsibility hadn't been the right word.</p><p>"...I guess."</p><p> </p><p>That... <em>might</em> be progress? But probably not. John keeps his hand on Dirk's arm, but doesn't grab him or move closer. Dirk was free to pull away whenever he wanted this time; he wouldn't chase after him.</p><p>"It was 100% my fault. I did it, I sent the... The pictures, I'm to blame here. Dave has every right to hate me, and so do you. It's up to him alone if he wants to forgive me, alright?"</p><p> </p><p>"I know that." Dirk feels like he was mumbling. He didn't need John to explain to him what he already knew, like he was a child. But if he already knew and accepted that, they wouldn't be here right now, would they?</p><p>"I was only trying to help the process along."</p><p> </p><p>It's starting to feel like maybe Dirk was getting a little sullen, so John steps back, thumbs hooked awkwardly in his waistband. "Yeah, but maybe you shouldn't, okay? It's not the kind of thing you can solder together, you know?" John smiles again, shrugging his shoulders. "I think I'm gonna head home."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk simply nods. He felt a little better, having given John his apology. Not completely, though. If things would have gone well, and somehow John and Dave did become friends so soon again, he wasn't sure if he would have ever realized what he was doing was underhanded and manipulative in the stupidest of ways. Even if he did, would he have had it in him to admit the way he went about it was wrong? The thought was unsettling.</p><p>Maybe he should have thanked John.</p><p>"Yeah. Okay."</p><p> </p><p>Yeah, it definitely feels like it's time to go. He doesn't want to leave him when he looks like he might be shutting down, but <em>fuck</em> if he was gonna have a repeat of last time. Dave can handle it from this point.</p><p>He makes a mental note to text him as soon as he leaves the apartment, to get a followup, and then wonders if asking/going in for a hug would be weird.</p><p>Yeah, probably.</p><p>John shrugs again and wrings his hands a couple times. "See you?" It sounds like a question, but he turns and pulls open the door before waiting for an answer.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wasn't sure what he was feeling right now. He'd sort of been expecting this whole thing to turn into another Talk. But John didn't push the issue. If anything, it seemed like his only goal was to apologize to Dirk, and leave. He wasn't expecting anything else from him, and that was... weirdly comforting.</p><p>John had exposed a raw part of Dirk that he was still deeply resentful of, and somehow didn't continue to pity him for it. In fact, he left it alone, completely.</p><p>That was new.</p><p>"...Yeah. Text me."</p><p> </p><p>John smiles and waves over his shoulder. "Sure." But as soon as he closes the door behind him and he's back in the main area of the apartment, his smile falls and he keeps his eyes on the floor. He didn't feel like getting grilled or ignored by Dave, so he pulls out his phone as he hurries toward the main door. He types out his message, getting ready to send it as soon as he's free.</p><p> </p><p>When John closed the door behind him, Dirk had a realization. It was too soon, still. John couldn't leave - not when he was treating him... like this. A way that had somehow been able to pique his curiosity, and he wasn't ready for that to be over just yet. He wanted to know why. To understand.</p><p>Sure. That was one way to rationalize it.</p><p>Dirk stepped out of his bedroom only to spot John making a beeline for the front door. He called out to him before he could make it there.</p><p>"John. Do you, uh. Have time to hang out? Like, actually hang out, and not..." Dirk trails off, suddenly very aware of the TV going in the living room, and stubbornly keeps his eyes off of Dave. Even so, he doesn't miss the obvious swivel of his head as he looks between the two of them.</p><p>Fuck, what was he doing right now, other than embarrassing himself in front of his brother <em>and</em> John? <em>Are you really that desperate for the attention</em>, a hateful little voice in the back of his mind asks. He stands tall for the time being, electing to ignore it.</p><p> </p><p>Despite his attempt at ignoring his surroundings and focusing entirely on the exit, John still places Dave. Blame it on the years spent as his friend, but he could just <em>feel</em> where he was. He nervously keeps his attention on anything but Dave, hoping to have a clean escape, but when a voice calls out (again surprising him) it isn't the one he's expecting.</p><p>He spins around, eyes wide behind his glasses, and John barely notices Dave turning to look between them when Dirk asks to spend more time together. There's another flush of warmth spreading up his neck and across his face, but he doesn't try to call attention to it.</p><p>"Uh. Sure. I- I had an idea for something actually, but I gotta ask around first. Unless you meant right now? I mean, I've got time." Aaaaand <em>now</em> is when he really hones in on Dave's attention, because he's surely not gonna like how Dirk apparently forgave him so quickly again.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk is intimately aware of the fact that he's just created an incredibly awkward situation, but he's just as aware of the fact that he can't back down now unless he wanted to look even more stupid. So he nods.</p><p>He still hasn't looked at Dave, but he knew his eyes were on John. He would deal with <em>that</em> conversation later.</p><p>"I'll go with you, if you give me a few minutes to get ready."</p><p> </p><p>The last thing he wanted right now was to be left alone with Dave after this conversation, but John nods and stuffs his hands in his pockets, resolutely staring at Dirk and nothing else. They could figure something out later as far as what they were gonna do, because John has no plans whatsoever.</p><p>"Y... yeah, sure. I'll uh. Wait in the hallway."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk nods and relaxes just slightly, if only because he had an excuse to dip out of the room quickly - he wasn't too keen on the fact that John sounds so unsure about spending time with him. He tried not to think too hard about it. (He failed.) John would have said no, if he really didn't want to, right? Maybe he'd put him on the spot in front of Dave, and he'd agreed anyway because of it. Fuck, that could have been it.</p><p>Dirk tries to make quick work of getting ready once he was back in his room, just in case Dave had any intentions of ripping into John before they could leave.</p><p>In the living room though, Dave's eyes hadn't left John from behind his shades, even as Dirk absconded.</p><p> </p><p>John watches him leave and, for one instinctive moment, looks at Dave. It didn't even last half a second before he spins and rushes out of the apartment, but it was long enough that he noticed Dave absolutely looking at him, and he knows he doesn't have anything to feel guilty about, but he's so sure Dave is assuming the worst.</p><p>Which, for the first time since everything happened, John was a little frustrated about it. Sure, he fucked up in a big way, but that didn't make him some fucking- some evil bastard. But the frustration is still overlaid with grief, so he doesn't say anything as he rushes out of the apartment, waiting near the stairwell.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't thirty seconds after John had left the apartment that he would receive a text from Dave. Dave wasn't sure what John had said to him in there, but if he knew Dirk like he thought he did, he would have guessed he'd taken the apology with a hint of suspicion. But maybe he didn't know Dirk as well as he thought, if he was running off with John after 45 minutes.</p><p>'so i guess he feels better now</p><p>you werent in there very long</p><p>im talking to him before you leave'</p><p> </p><p>He checks his phone with a jolt, seeing his half-typed message in the chatbar beneath Dave's new ones. He doesn't really like the implications, but what can you do. He erases the message telling Dave to check in on him, since it was pretty pointless now.</p><p>'you know, i actually was going to tell you to talk to him after i left. so go ahead.'</p><p>He considers telling him exactly what went on, but figures he'd hear it from Dirk at this rate.</p><p> </p><p>Dave doesn't bother texting him back, because he was already pushing Dirk's partially closed door open, and stepping inside as he got dressed.</p><p>The conversation that followed didn't really leave Dave with much information he didn't know already. John had apologized, and also tried weed for half a second, apparently. Dave could still smell it in the room. He asked Dirk why he'd been so quick to forgive him, to which Dirk answered with silence. Eventually, he told Dave it was because he knew he was right about what he'd said.</p><p>It took a lot out of Dave to remind Dirk that John didn't deserve a medal just for telling Dirk that he was worth something - that just because he was right, it didn't mean he hadn't pressed Dirk past his boundaries and made him angry. He knew it wouldn't have ended up too well for either himself or his brother, so he kept it to himself. Maybe he was being a little unfair.</p><p>Dirk still wanted to be friends with John, despite everything. Dave didn't understand it. But at the same time, it wasn't his place to stop it, either.</p><p>It was sort of infuriating, if he thought about it too deeply.</p><p>He left Dirk's room once he'd gotten his answer and confirmed that Dirk did seem okay, and not inexplicably out of his mind. He sent John one last text before Dirk left the apartment.</p><p>'i dont know what you did to make him like you so much</p><p>because he would normally never put up with this shit fyi</p><p>dont fuck it up'</p><p> </p><p>It definitely felt like it took more than just a couple minutes, and by the time Dirk was finally headed out the door, John was pacing again. His phone pings, and he frowns down at the message from Dave, all sorts of feelings twisting around inside him. Not all of them bad.</p><p>John stares at the screen as Dirk walks over, chewing his lip.</p><p>'do you really think i'm some irredeemable monster?'</p><p>As soon as he sends it, he turns his phone off and finally addresses Dirk. "Okay so I actually don't have anything in mind; I hope you have an idea. My thing still needs to be planned."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk had been expecting the immediate interrogation from Dave, and it really only served to shine a bit of clarity on the way John had looked at him earlier when he claimed his brother wasn't his keeper. He could be just as protective as Dirk was of him, he supposed.</p><p>When he made it out of the apartment, John was on his phone, unsurprisingly. He shut the door behind him and pocketed his wallet and keys, a spare set of non-disassembled shades on his face.</p><p>"I don't. But I figured you would be more comfortable in a place that Dave wasn't, right now."</p><p> </p><p>Turning the phone off had only ramped up his anxiety, but it was finally starting to ease away now that Dirk was hanging around. "Yeah, he definitely didn't like, uh." His hand gestures between them for a moment.</p><p>"Alright, well. Do you wanna do something out and about, or are we hiding out in my apartment again? Honestly, I could kind of go for a movie right now. In theaters, I mean. Anything you wanna see? Or we could just go for a walk."</p><p> </p><p>"I know." Dirk sort of just leaves it at that, no clarification needed. There was no false reassurance to be had there, either. Dave didn't like Dirk spending time with John whatsoever, period, and he'd made that pretty obvious.</p><p>He hoped it wasn't too hard on either of them, seeing each other again.</p><p>"We can do a movie." It was better than exposing each other to more uncomfortable silences that would definitely come alongside a walk. He still didn't know how to feel with John right now, sort of toeing the line of awkwardness. "I have no idea what's playing. Not sure I remember the last time I've been in a movie theater, even."</p><p> </p><p>He's tempted to show Dirk the texts he got, but it'd mean turning his phone back on and trying to hide the message he just sent, and there probably wouldn't even be anything good coming out of it anyway.</p><p>"Yeah, I think it's been a little while for me too. We can just pick when we get there. Play some movie roulette and grab tickets to whatever is playing soon. It'll probably be trashy. I can't wait." John smiles again and runs his fingers over the corners of his phone case. "Wanna do food after?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk returns the smile with a small one of his own, and it felt odd on his face. He didn't realize he'd been doing it, at first.</p><p>"Getting greedy, Egbert. But I'll bite. As long as you have me back by curfew. What would our parents think?" Dirk manages the joke, pocketing his hands and starting for the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>Getting a smile so soon after fucking things up so badly felt <em>good</em>. John still has no idea just what's going on with Dirk - he absolutely believes Dave when he says this isn't typical behavior fom him - but it feels nice to see a side of Dirk he apparently didn't show often.</p><p>"They'd hate me, obviously." He returns the small smile with a shrug and smile of his own before following him down. "But I'll get you back by curfew, no worries. When's curfew again? Three am?"</p><p> </p><p>"You should know three is curfew only if I sneak in through the window." Dirk realized about then that he'd been returning John's smile, and pulls the corners of his lips back into his practiced line. Luckily, he had the excuse of watching his feet on the stairs as they went down instead of holding eye contact, so it wasn't too noticeable.</p><p>When they reached the base of the stairs, Dirk took out his keys instinctively.</p><p>"My car, or yours?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh my god. Okay, nine it is." He barely catches the flattening expression, and you know what, that was fine. John's been through a lot lately and he's not about to overthink something like that and add it to the list. He got a smile. Good enough.</p><p>"Uhhh..." He considers Dirk's driving habits for a moment. "Mine's good. I can just drop you off back here when we're done."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk pockets his keys again, giving a nod. He noted idly that he'd only driven John somewhere once - but he wouldn't complain about keeping the miles on his truck lower. She's seen better days, and he wasn't in the market for a replacement anytime soon.</p><p>"Works for me."</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't say anything else on their way down, trying to enjoy the silence, but it's not exactly working. There isn't any discomfort between the two of them right now that he can tell, but he keeps thinking about Dave. How he could pull up the showing movies now on his phone but that would mean seeing Dave's reply, or not seeing one at all, which might feel even worse.</p><p>When they reach his car, he finally asks, "Do you wanna eat first? So we don't get destroyed by theater food prices if we get hungry."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk thought that things would feel a little different than normal after John's apology and the weird way it made Dirk feel. He didn't expect John to be the nervous one, though. Maybe Dirk was overthinking it, like he did most everything, but John seemed quieter. Like there was something on his mind. Dirk could have wagered a guess at what it was - and for once, he didn't feel so guarded about reaching out to him.</p><p>"Yeah, we can do that." Dirk had settled in the passenger seat before he continued.</p><p>"...Are you holding up okay? After seeing Dave. I didn't ask you earlier, but I probably should have."</p><p> </p><p>John lets himself fall into the driver's side, car rocking just a bit from the sudden weight, before buckling up. His hand is resting on the key when Dirk asks him how he's doing, and for a minute he doesn't know how to answer.</p><p>"Well, uh. Pretty sure he doesn't miss me, like you said." He really didn't want to talk about this, but something told him walling up right now would be a huge mistake. Even if a vindictive little part of him wants to turn the tables on Dirk for once.</p><p>"He really thinks I'm disgusting and untrustworthy, and it's pretty obvious the only reason I was even allowed a foot into that apartment was for your sake." John doesn't look at him once, staring at his knees beneath the wheel before finally turning the key. "You buckled up?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk fastens his seatbelt as John speaks, his eyes on him from behind the shades. John wouldn't look at him. Dirk didn't fault him for it.</p><p>"I'm not sure I would go that far." Because Dirk had it on authority that Dave did miss John. Maybe not the John that's sitting right next to him right now, but he <em>does</em> miss his best friend. He wasn't sure that was the best thing to tell John right now though. "He's still sorting through his shit right now." A pause. "Did he say anything to you?"</p><p> </p><p>John listens to him talk for a moment before lifting a shoulder. "Yeah," is all he says before turning the ignition and driving downtown. He didn't want to talk about Dave, or think about him, or have another repeat of last time.</p><p>"What are you hungry for? Fast food, or somewhere you gotta sit?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk frowns, but he doesn't press. Dave was still as sensitive of a subject as ever, and he'd already learned his lesson once. There was no point in making John upset, so he drops it. He makes sure to stick a mental pin in it for later, though, and offers him one last thing.</p><p>"He's going to come around. I know you know that, deep down."</p><p> </p><p>"I dunno, man. Some things you just shouldn't forgive." Since Dirk wasn't giving any input in regards to food, John makes the decision for him. "Fast food it is. Something greasy so we feel too bloated to be hungry during the movie."</p><p>Once again he's tempted to pull up his phone to look at what's nearby, but he stops himself with the added rule of staying off his phone while driving. Instead, he cranes his neck to see what was coming up. "Looks like we got an Arby's, a Subway, and one of the ever-present McDonald's down the street. I think this one has a PlayPlace."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk didn't respond to that at first, letting the conversation lapse into silence. He couldn't tell if John really believed that, or if he was just feeling down on himself. Regardless, he knew he had to leave it alone. He pulled his eyes from John and glanced out the window, looking at the fast food places John was listing as they got closer.</p><p>"...Think you'd make the height limit if we went?"</p><p> </p><p>His lips slowly purse into one of those playfully offended expressions, mouth a tight line but eyes crinkled at the corners. "Wow. You really went there, huh?" But he has to admit, he <em>is</em> curious.</p><p>"I mean, pretty sure there's a weight limit too, and I doubt I'd make that. Plus, I'd probably get stuck in the tunnels anyway."</p><p> </p><p>"You won't know unless you try." Dirk says, because he wasn't actually under the impression that John would try in the first place. It wasn't a great idea.</p><p>His eyes leave the window in favor turning back to John. "I can order inside, if you want to try your luck with getting banned from the joint."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, but if I get sued, you're covering half the court fees." He didn't know John that well after all. He would absolutely be a dumbass for laughs as long as no one but potentially himself got hurt.</p><p>"I'll fucking do it if there aren't any kids in there, dude." He only spares him a glance out of the corner of his eye. "Make sure you hurry so we still get the food before we leave."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's brows quirked up in surprise, because... seriously? He wasn't expecting John to take the bait, considering he'd been mostly kidding, but. It seemed like John was willing to take this as a challenge.</p><p>There was a split second where Dirk remembered their first date at the minigolf course, where he'd convinced John to hop the fence with him.</p><p>He felt himself smiling again.</p><p>"I'm not paying shit, man. If you can't smoothly infiltrate the kiddie playground, that's your own shortcoming. I'll be watching through the glass. You climb through the whole thing and make it down the slide, and I'll even give you my happy meal toy."</p><p> </p><p>He knows he's talked himself into a hole at this point - what was he thinking, expecting Dirk to be the voice of reason? If anything, he was his hype man. He doesn't think he's using that term correctly but whatever. And, realistically, he knows a happy meal toy was not worth getting publicly shamed and ejected from a chain restaurant, but how the fuck was he meant to turn that down?</p><p>He flicks on his turn signal as the double arches loom. "Guess we're going to McDonald's, then.</p><p> </p><p>"After a pitch like that, where else would we go?" Dirk looked back out the window, already able to see the playplace from the road in the weird glass box it was in. He wasn't sure he'd ever actually been inside one as a kid.</p><p>"Just tell me what you want, and I'll order while you get acquainted with the tiny shoe cubbies."</p><p> </p><p>"God, I can already smell it. Ugh." He pulls into the parking lot and thinks for a moment as he switches off the engine. "Hm. A number two, no cheese, large fries and uhhh. Milkshake. Remember to remind them about the allergy. Usually isn't a problem but. You know."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk takes off his seatbelt, his hand already on the handle of the door. "I'll remind them. You have your epipen, don't you? Not sure I trust the employees of McDonald's not to drop in one of those tiny peanuts that come with sundaes, somehow."</p><p> </p><p>John makes a face and looks away as he steps up out of the car. "Just, uh. Just make sure to tell them to be careful, alright?" He was kind of hoping Dirk wouldn't call attention to it, but. It also made him feel <em>something</em> that he remembered.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wasn't sure if John was avoiding that question about his epipen on purpose - he'd genuinely been asking, because he just as genuinely didn't actually trust underpaid fast food workers. It wasn't his place to mother John, though, so he didn't press it. Even if now the thought of John's throat closing up over a tainted milkshake wouldn't leave his mind. He got out of the car, shutting the door behind him.</p><p>"Sure. I can use intimidation tactics, if necessary."</p><p> </p><p>"Haha. Damn, don't get us kicked out before I even get the chance to, man." John kind of shuffles awkwardly for a moment, starting to feel a little irresponsible. "I just kind of figured I'd come over and you two would kick me out, and then I'd go home. You know? And carrying it around all the time is uh." Yeah, he's pretty sure he sounds like an idiot. "It's just big and clunky, and when you invited me out I wasn't really thinking, I would've swung home first, but it's in the other direction-"</p><p> </p><p>It's not clear because Dirk still has his shades on, but he still thinks it's pretty obvious that he's giving John a Look. He does not move from his spot beside the car.</p><p>"John. Were you seriously going to get a milkshake without your epipen with you? Is McDonald's in general a good idea, even? I don't know the extent of how food allergies work, because mine isn't so encounterable, but I'm willing to wager a guess that it probably isn't in your best interest."</p><p> </p><p>It's suddenly very difficult to look at Dirk. "I just really wanted a burger and also to potentially bring a series of plastic tubes collapsing down." It <em>was</em> a pretty big gamble, but honestly he didn't really care that much right now. "I'm <em>hungry</em> Dirk. It's fine."</p><p> </p><p>He folds his arms over his chest. "Couldn't we just go somewhere safer? You can still climb in the tubes, if you're that determined."</p><p>He tacked the joke on at the end only to lighten the blow. He didn't want to be a nag, but he <em>really</em> had a preference for John not breaking into hives and needing an emergency room.</p><p> </p><p>"I mean there aren't exactly any places nearby that are guaranteed peanut safe. Pretty sure it's like, Chipotle and Olive Garden. Or like. Red Robin's? And while they have some bomb ass chili, their burgers kinda suck."</p><p>John finally walks around and tries to smack his arms down from across his chest. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."</p><p> </p><p>"Your apartment isn't that far. We could easily go grab it first, circle back through the drive thru, and then hit the half hour mark for a movie." Dirk didn't move from where he stood, but he let his arms drop at John's insistence.</p><p>"Fifteen minutes, tops. Maybe twenty, the way you drive." Lawfully, he means.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't say anything right away, staring down at the space between them for a good solid twenty seconds. "You calling me slow?" His lip quirks up before John sighs, walking back around to the driver's side.</p><p>"Let's just go to the theater."</p><p> </p><p>"In simple terms, yes. I am." Dirk feels some tension unravel somewhere within him when John circles back to the driver's side, and pulls open the passenger door to get back in.</p><p>"I thought you didn't want to splurge on snacks."</p><p> </p><p>"I'll just get a slushy. Wasn't super hungry to begin with, just wanted to prevent that weird effect like when you're only a little hungry but you go shopping and suddenly you're starving, you know?"</p><p>He buckles in again and waits for Dirk to get situated. "So any specific genres you'd prefer? If we get there and actually have a choice, I mean."</p><p> </p><p>"No popcorn?" Dirk fastens his seatbelt, glancing over to John. He wasn't sure how he felt about John wanting a burger one minute and then settling for a slushie the next - he'd probably end up getting a bucket of popcorn regardless of John's answer, and have him eat the majority.</p><p>"I'm not into movies. Can't say I have a favorite genre, though I know more trivia about poorly written action movies than I should."</p><p> </p><p>"I hate having to dig in my teeth afterward. And the candy is expensive in those little useless boxes. I'd rather spend seven bucks on something that'll stain my mouth blue." Once they're ready, john takes a moment to get serious, turning in his seat to rest a hand on Dirk's shoulder.</p><p>"Dirk. I like you a lot, okay? But I will <em>never</em> watch a Michael Bay movie with you." He taps his shoulder, and then hesitates. "... At least the ones he directed. He's been producer for some good ones."</p><p> </p><p>When John puts his hand on his shoulder, Dirk's stomach does a weird little flip that he immediately feels ridiculous for once John actually finishes his sentence.</p><p>"I never said I <em>voluntarily</em> learned the bullshit trivia. Don't make me out to be something I'm not." Dirk starts, just sort of. Awkwardly keeping still so as not to jostle John's hand. "Besides. I'm talking less about shit like Transformers, and more about shit like Mad Max. Fast and Furious, also. None are masterpieces. Some are objectively more entertaining than the others."</p><p> </p><p>"Fury Road was so good, so I guess I can't fault you there." Dirk feels almost tense under his hand, so John gives him one last little apologetic squeeze before pulling away and starting up the car. "I can't actually remember where the theater is from here, so uh. Wanna play navigator again?"</p><p>He doesn't say anything else until they're out of the parking lot and back on the road. "Where did you unwillingly pick up all this Action Trivia anyway, then?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk pulls out his phone and tries not to think about how the sudden loss of warmth on his shoulder makes him feel almost disappointed. His theory about touch starvation was getting realer every day, and it was becoming a little concerning. Dirk opens his navigation app just long to enough for him to realize he already knew where he was - <em>shake it off, Strider</em> - and close it again.</p><p>"Take a right at the next light. It's not too far from here."</p><p>He decides to check the movie listings on the way, tapping in the name of the theater to look at the times and continuing as he does.</p><p>"My ex-boyfriend had a similar habit to yours of talking relentlessly through movies. It's probably why I only have a vague idea of the plots of most movies I've seen. The only difference is that where you have questions, he had trivia."</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks." He, as always while driving, kept his eyes on the road aside from the very quick occasional glance. Which is a good thing, because it stops him from looking over when Dirk brings up his ex. He thinks he plays it off well, no obvious tension or strange movements, but inside, John has just enough time to think to himself that he <em>was</em> just a bootleg replacement for Dirk's past relationship(s?) before telling himself that isn't fair to either of them, at least about the movie thing. He couldn't have known that much about John back when they were giving it a shot.</p><p>Unless he heard it from Dave.</p><p>... He should probably say something. "Yeah? Damn, at least <em>his</em> habits were informative. I should probably try to at least be helpful when I interrupt movies."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk hadn't been expecting the sudden silence that came on after the last thing he'd said. Maybe John wasn't listening, but that wasn't likely, considering he'd been the one to ask. Had Dirk said something?</p><p>He'd never talked about Jake with John. That might have stirred up a bit of discomfort - John could have been trying to figure out to say, in case it was a sore subject. Fuck, why had Dirk even dropped the 'ex' identifier in the first place? He should have just said he was a friend, but he hadn't thought to simplify it.</p><p>Then again, maybe it hadn't been that part at all - he could have sounded rude when he called John out for talking over movies. Dirk didn't actually give much of a shit, but could it have come off like he had? Or maybe...</p><p>John eventually spoke up, and Dirk shook himself from his own thoughts.</p><p>"Don't worry. It's just as obnoxious either way." A pause, because hadn't he just established John might have been sensitive to a joke like that? "...I'm kidding. For the record. It doesn't bother me."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah." He gets his bearings after the turn, remembering where the place was and feeling more comfortable now that he didn't have to scan signs. "Just let me know whenever I'm being genuinely obnoxious. Sometimes I can't tell when I've gone too far with a joke. Or I guess in general, right?"</p><p>He falls silent again, checking his mirrors and really just being extra cautious for the sake of a distraction. Dirk was getting comfortable enough to talk to him about stuff and all John could do was try and measure up to the other people in his life. It was dumb! They were past that, <em>he</em> was supposed to be past that. He knew what Dirk wanted from him now, and thinking about anything else would just make it weird for everyone.</p><p>"Did you check the showings?"</p><p> </p><p>"You're not an obnoxious person, John. But I'll keep you posted regardless, just in case you switch it up on me."</p><p>It's around then that Dirk realizes he'd been staring blankly at his phone that whole time he'd been lost in thought, not even registering the words on the screen. He taps on the results of his search, scrolling through the listings.</p><p>"There's some kids movies and a couple action flicks. Horror, too. Nothing looks explicitly horrible aside from the comedies."</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>have</em> been known to be pretty switchy and unpredictable, so who knows. But I'll hold you to that." John listens to the options as he pulls into the lot, looking for a decent space.</p><p>"Huh. Horror always sounds fun, unless you specifically want horrible. Which one's playing the soonest, or are these all around the same times? Shit, I guess we can just look when we get there; I was just hoping to cut any thinking time so we aren't those assholes just kinda milling around out front looking at the posters."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was looking out the window as John pulled into the lot, trying to look at the posters from a distance as if that would help his decision making process.</p><p>"One of the horror movies and the comedy are starting in fifteen. The rest start in thirty. We can make either of those times realistically, but we'd have to loiter in the lobby and play crane games or something if you want one of the thirties."</p><p> </p><p>"Damn, I was gonna say just go with a coin flip for the best or worst options, but you know I can't say no to a crane game. We can do that after though, I'd hate to have to hold <em>all my prizes</em> during the movie." Once he's found a spot, John hops out and does a quick pocket check before waiting for Dirk.</p><p>"So? Horror or comedy? You know, horror/comedy is a great genre. I wish there was more of it. They almost always get the balance wrong, or they don't blend it at all. It's just first half comedy with some occasional tension, then they drop the comedy completely when the horror comes in. A shame. Have you ever seen Housebound? That's the ideal. <em>Perfect</em> blend of funny and scary."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk climbs out of the car for the second time, pocketing his phone now that he'd figured out all the showings. "I've never seen it. I don't watch many horror movies."</p><p>In all honesty, he didn't really watch <em>any</em> movies besides the ones he watches with his friends and Dave. It wasn't as easy to stay entertained when he didn't have anyone to talk through it, or listen to his analysis.</p><p>He didn't mention that part to John, because he had a feeling it would make him sound particularly lonely.</p><p>"We could always create our own horror comedy, if you're that interested in the genre. Switching between the movies every fifteen minutes or so would get obvious quickly, though."</p><p> </p><p>"It's a good one. I'm actually kinda curious to see if you'd be able to figure it out before the reveals. Maybe next time it's on Netflix we could watch it. I've seen it like 7 times but I'll do my best not to spoil anything."</p><p>John leads him up toward the ticket booths, laughing. "That'd be an adventure, but as fine as I was getting banned from McDonald's, I don't want it to happen here. Plus it'd just be disappointing. Wanna rock paper scissors for it, or just flip a coin? Actually..."</p><p>John skips ahead to the waiting teller, asking which, of the two movies playing next, had the least amount of people watching. He gets his answers and turns back to Dirk. "Well, the horror movie has like ten people but the comedy is completely empty. Does that sway your decision at all?"</p><p> </p><p>"Comedy. We can claim the best seats, though there's a high chance it's a box office disaster. Ideally, it'll be the entertaining variety." Dirk says, scanning the movie posters from behind his shades, hands stuffed in his pockets. If the comedy looked as standard and mediocre as its advertising, there would be plenty for the two of them to rip into.</p><p> </p><p>John nods, obviously agreeing. "Plus we can be loud and obnoxious with no guilt!" He returns to the teller and buys their tickets without waiting for Dirk's permission, holding one out for him. "And we still have time to get your popcorn."</p><p> </p><p>"I could have bought my own," Dirk says, frowning as he takes the ticket from John. "So I'll take that as permission to cover the snacks."</p><p>Dirk leads the way into the theater with his ticket in hand, letting the usher check it and return his ticket stub. He waits for John to do the same before getting in line for snacks, eyeing the menu through the Coke advertisements, probably only there to distract from the prices. Not that it mattered to Dirk, anyway. He was buying John something other than a slushie, regardless of the ridiculous price inflation.</p><p>"Favorite candy? Movie theater nachos are also on the table, if popcorn is off."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, I know, but I got there first." John smirks and then subsequently rolls his eyes at the announcement. "Sure dude, but I think I still got the cheaper end of the deal in that case." He follows him to the usher, memorizing the simple directions to their theater as he slips in line for their snacks.</p><p>"Nah, come on, just a blue slushy. Nothing here is super trustworthy anyway."</p><p> </p><p>"If you don't tell me what you want, I'm leaving your snack entirely up to chance. Regardless, you're getting one, so it's in your best interest to just tell me unless you want to end up with Dots, or a hot dog." Dirk gives him a brief glance, as if to let him know that no, he was not budging on this one.</p><p> </p><p>"Noooo, come on, those are both bad choices! Take one look at these fucking teeth and <em>try</em> to tell me eating Dots is fine." He <em>really</em> doesn't want anything, but he especially doesn't want a cheap ass boiled hotdog. "Uhhh, shit. Fine. Get me some Twizzlers I guess. Or Sour Patch Kids. Just nothing with chocolate since that's what I gotta watch out for in candy."</p><p> </p><p>"Dots are terrible regardless of your teeth, man." Dirk takes the couple steps it takes to move along in line, and when he reaches the counter, he decides not to choose and buys John both Twizzlers and Sour Patch Kids alongside his blue slushie. For 'himself,' Dirk buys some nachos that he knew he wouldn't finish, and hoped John would end up digging into when candy isn't enough.</p><p>He hands John the little boxes of candy, stepping aside after he's paid to wait for the nachos and John's slushie at the counter.</p><p>"Hope you're not allergic to sugar."</p><p> </p><p>John hovers (hardly) over his shoulder as Dirk makes his purchases, so his indignant whispered "Oh my god," is right in his ear. But John doesn't say anything that might cause a scene in front of the visibly tightly-wound employee. He takes the candy with a put-on smile as they wait. "Hope you can deal with me when I've had too much of it!" The words are as threatening as he can make them.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk seems satisfied with himself as John takes the candy despite the threat in his words a little smile teasing at his lips. He gives John a once over behind his shades, leaning his hip against the counter as the exhausted looking employee pours a shit ton of cheese over his nachos on the other side.</p><p>"I'm pretty sure I can handle it."</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Okay so this is still going on but the hassle of transferring it over on mobile is hell so I finally hopped over to the library when i had to print some stuff out for work, so I thought I'd update. The scene is actually a lot longer but I felt like it'd be smart to cut it in half. I'll have the next bit up as soon as I can! And for the record, the rp is still ongoing and a LOT has happened, but my writing has been on the decline since I've been thumb typing so much. Anyway here's this</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John smiles right back, eyes narrowed. God, he doesn't know what it is about Dirk that makes everything feel so fucking flirty all the time. It was confusing! This was probably just casual friend banter for Dirk, and John was reading too much into it. But he plays along, smile stretching at the corners as he loosely crosses his arms over his chest.</p><p>"You haven't seen <em>anything</em> yet, dude. Get ready to eat those words." In all honesty, he had a pretty high tolerance to sugar - thanks, dad - but he's not above playing it up.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels that familiar little flip in his stomach, huffing a laugh through his nose.</p><p>"I think you're doubting the tolerance I have for your bullshit." He pushes off the counter when the employee behind it slides him his nachos and the slushie, taking them both with a thank you and offering the latter to John.</p><p>They only had a few minutes before the showing started, so Dirk didn't waste any time starting to their left for the theater near the end of the long corridor.</p><p> </p><p>"My bullshit specifically, huh? You think you've got me pegged already?" John tucks his candy beneath his arm so he can take the drink, following down the dim halls to their door. He's tempted to call him arrogant, but it probably wouldn't sit well, and the last thing he wants is to sour this moment so soon after the forgiveness from their fight.</p><p>"If you say so. But I think I've still got some surprises left in me."</p><p> </p><p>"Something like that." Dirk picks at one of the nachos as he walks alongside John, shaking off some of the excess cheese before taking a bite. He was reminded again of that night at the minigolf course, and it suddenly hits him that this feels remarkably like a date. <em>Another one,</em> he reminds himself.</p><p>But it wasn't.</p><p>When they reach the door, Dirk pulls it open with his free hand, gesturing with his chin for John to go in first. "'Surprises' as in getting hyper off of sugar, and crashing by the end of the movie?"</p><p> </p><p>"Mmh, thanks." He sips at his drink while stepping past Dirk, then pauses to make sure the door doesn't like. Close too suddenly on him, because that was what friends did when someone holds the door open. "You act like my personality isn't already just one infinite sugar high already. I'll <em>never</em> crash."</p><p>He walks up the slope and peers over the divider to make sure that - yep - it was absolutely empty. "There's still enough time that others might show up, but for now it looks like we've got the place to ourselves. Where do you wanna sit?"</p><p> </p><p>"Right." Dirk didn't believe it for a second, but he'd see just how much truth, if any, was in John's claim by the end of the afternoon.</p><p>Dirk was able to see the theater was empty before John thanks to his height, giving a slight nod at the observation anyway. "Middle/middle are the best seats in the house. Though, the back is usually quieter in case people do come in." Dirk mumbles the last part mostly to himself, taking the wide stairs up two at a time. He ends up stopping somewhere right between the middle and back of the theater, pausing for John's input. "We'll split the difference like this."</p><p> </p><p>John allows him to go through his seat picking process in silence, nodding when it seemed appropriate. "Sure, sure. Counterpoint-" He stretches his arms wide and turns so he's pointing to each wall. "We sit on opposite sides of the theater so we have to shout at each other, and if anyone else tries to come in we can scare them off."</p><p> </p><p>"I thought you <em>didn't</em> want to get kicked out of the theater." Dirk remarks, starting down the aisle of seats to make for the very middle. "You'd need to be more subtle than that. Throwing shit at them is obviously the superior method. How many Sour Patch Kids are you willing to kamikaze for the cause?"</p><p>Dirk finds the seat he was happy with and pulls down the cushion to sit down, balancing his nachos on the cup holder and settling in.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah but then you didn't let me get kicked out of McDonald's and now I'm itching to cause some trouble. You know what would guarantee someone walking out? Getting pelted in he head with a soggy, cheesy nacho."</p><p>He plonks down haphazardly beside Dirk and tucks his oversized cup in an almost too-small holder before bouncing his eyebrows. "Just saying, leave two of the most drenched chips on the side. Just in case."</p><p> </p><p>"Even better. I couldn't ask for a more conniving partner in crime." Dirk stretches out his legs, letting his ankles hang off the ledge and between the seats in front of them as he picks out another nacho and watches the pre-trailers-trailer playing on the big screen.</p><p>"Speaking of. Feel free to steal some of these. I'm not going to finish them, and I know you like them too."</p><p> </p><p>The urge to nag almost overwhelms John. But he swallws it down and instead, more tactfully, calls attention to those long legs. "Dude. How can you do that knowing your ankles might come into contact with whatever is on a movie theater floor?" He grimaces and rips open the twizzlers, holding one out for Dirk and watching it flop over.</p><p>And then he vomits the nagging. "Why don't you eat that much? Not to sound judgy or anything- Is it an appetite thing? Cause if it's a self image issue then I'll be sure to reassure you repeatedly that you have <em>nothing</em> to worry about."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk huffs a slight laugh and didn't make any move to adjust his posture - it was comfortable, damn it - as he takes the twizzler, hoping the amusement does anything to hide how weirdly bashful that sort-of compliment had made him feel. He twirls the almost licorice between his fingers for a moment, thinking, before he takes a bite out of it.</p><p>"It's not that. Force of habit, I guess." Dirk didn't clarify for a moment or two, before deciding that might not have been a good enough explanation. If anything, it could have come off as concerning. Which, he supposed it was regardless, but still. He trusted John enough to give him the truth. He was trying the honesty thing these days.</p><p>"My older brother didn't keep a lot of food in the house growing up. I learned to ration so Dave and I would both have enough to eat when he wasn't around. I haven't needed to do it in years, but it ended up sticking with me."</p><p> </p><p>Even before the clarification, John can feel his eyebrows pinch down and inward. And while the truth was <em>better</em> than he expected, it was still pretty shitty. "Ah. <em>That</em> guy." The purse of his lips says everything he thinks he needs to say on that matter.</p><p>"Man. Remind me to invite you to my dad's birthday one of these years. He'd break that habit in an hour."</p><p> </p><p>"I wouldn't doubt that. I've always heard good things about your dad from Dave." Dirk lets the subject of his eldest brother be punctuated with the look on John's face, because yeah, now really wasn't the time to delve into the dumpster fire that was the Strider childhood home life. "He loves that guy."</p><p> </p><p>John's head gives a quick, slight shake, because he was <em>trying</em> not to react and, again, ruin the moment. "Uh huh." He takes a big drink from his straw, then sighs. "Dad considers him a part of the family, and not just in that fake bullshit way. ... Can't wait for the conversation that'll happen when he finds out we aren't friends anymore." He likes to think Dave would be too worried about breaking his dad's heart to ever tell him what John did to end their friendship.</p><p>"Movie's starting."</p><p> </p><p>Fuck, maybe Dirk shouldn't have brought that up. It was easy to forget that he should probably keep his mouth shut about certain things now that he wasn't purposefully instigating something between John and Dave anymore. Now he'd accidentally put that thought in John's head - why was he so good at being a bad friend?</p><p>He speaks a bit lower as the lights dim in the theater, despite the fact that they were alone. "...Sorry. I wasn't trying to fuck up the mood."</p><p> </p><p>"Don't worry, man, I've almost ruined the mood like, potentially twice now." He doesn't know if it isn't still Dirk trying to meddle, but the fact that he acknowledged that it was off-base this time reassured John a little, and he can feel himself relax back into his chair again. "I think we just gotta keep trying. If you want to. There's a lot going on that isn't super great between and around us, and uh." He can feel the way his lips pulled up into a grimace; he kind of hated self-introspective shit. "And I <em>guess</em> we can't just ignore it, huh?"</p><p> </p><p>"No. I guess not." Dirk says, and lapses into silence.</p><p>He probably should have learned his lesson about that a long time ago, considering how his relationship with Jake ended - with his own control issues and their mutual communication failure. Old habits die hard.</p><p>He'd never had control of his friendship with John, though. Dirk didn't know what it was about John that always made him act so fucking stupid, but it might have had something to do with how effectively he could rip down the walls Dirk used to protect himself without even trying. Even when they went back up and Dirk shut down, John never gave him the satisfaction of letting it go unnoticed. He reminded him of Roxy, in that way.</p><p>In retrospect, he feels as if he's been blind to the fact that he's been laid bare for John since the beginning. John <em>knew</em> what a pathetic, lonely disaster that Dirk had been from their first real conversation. This whole time, Dirk had been pretending otherwise, and putting on a one man show.</p><p>John had pitied him from the beginning, but the apology this morning was the first time pity felt like real respect to Dirk.</p><p>When he eventually speaks up, he doesn't know why he says it --</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p> </p><p>John watches him for a minute, but it looks like Dirk is dealing with his own introspective shit, and he doesn't want to interrupt that. They both had a bit to think about, and they also probably both didn't actually want to think about it, so the least John could do was give him the space when it seemed like he was finally dealing with it.</p><p>So he keeps quiet and looks around the probably-not-miraculously still empty room and tears into the other box of candy Dirk got him. He sets the twizzlers in the cupholder between them to share, and starts rooting around for all the blue sour patch kids in the pathetically stocked container. They made these boxes too big on purpose and it was shitty! At least with chip bags full of air they had the excuse of making them less prone to getting crushed while packing or whatever.</p><p>Dirk breaks him out of his snack-induced frustration with an apology, and John genuinely doesn't know what he's saying it for this time. But he smiles and, after a couple seconds, holds out his hand palm-up on the arm rest between them. "You've said that a few times today. I forgave you after the first one. But thank you. Now are you really going to try and watch this movie with your shades on, because that's pretty dumb, Strider." His fingers wiggle just a little bit, curling in the air and drawing attention to themselves.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wasn't entirely sure what to make of the hand offered to him, something like nervousness prickling up the back of his neck as he tried to decipher what John wanted. Not his hand, surely - he wasn't about to embarrass himself by taking that monumental leap - so when John makes that last comment, Dirk slips off his shades and places them into John's palm.</p><p>"Of course not. Just because the shades look sick doesn't mean I gain the ability to see anything more than jack shit in the dark."</p><p> </p><p>He looks down when he feels the pointed plastic in his palm, and for a moment it's so baffling that he can't even express it. So he stares into his hand, eyes lidded, brows raised, lips barely curved up at the corners. "Okay..." Obviously that had not been what he was expecting, but he runs with it, pinching his thumb and index around the nosepiece and shaking the arms out so he can rest them on top of his head.</p><p>Maybe trying to hold his hand was a step too far, even if it was meant to be a comfort thing and not romantic. He still kind of misses how comfortable it'd been, back at the start of all this. "Maybe that's something to take into consideration with your new shades. Just please don't put a little flashlight on the outside of the lenses."</p><p> </p><p>"Consider that flashlight idea part of my patent. I'll credit you in the fine print." Dirk did note the idea about making things easier to see in the dark, though. He put a pin in that possibility for later, picking another nacho from the box as he averts his eyes to the screen, a small smile playing at his mouth.</p><p>"The trailers are starting. Do you talk through those too?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ugh, <em>please</em> don't. That's so obnoxious. I don't wanna be known as the guy responsible for people walking around with headlights... Haha, literally." He grins at his unintentional pun before stirring his drink with his straw - this stuff melted <em>so fast</em> when you didn't touch it for a while.</p><p>"Yeah, unless I see something I like. I don't think that'll happen here." He internally reminds himself to tone it down a bit; they paid for all this, so it might be legitimately annoying for him to be a distraction.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk resists the urge to roll his eyes at John's pun, switching the armrest he'd set the nachos on so that they were between him and John.</p><p>"All bets are off on whether you'll see something you like when the movie starts, too. Don't get your hopes up, man." He takes another Twizzler from where John had set them, glancing over to him. "I'm not opposed to theater hopping if it's irredeemably shitty.</p><p> </p><p>"I mean we did pay for a movie and as long as we don't see much of the first movie then it's not that bad, right? We're still seeing around the equivalent of one movie. Though calling any of this a movie feels too generous." Maybe they were being too harsh - it might not be that bad!</p><p>"The whole appeal of this one was the empty room though, and we'd lose that."</p><p> </p><p>"True. The lack of other people is a big selling point." He looks back to the screen, playing a trailer for some rom-com that would be theaters within the next few months. Something in the back of his mind reminds him that Karkat would probably be really into it.</p><p>"You said you like horror/comedies, but never asked what your favorite genre is. Is regular comedy up there?"</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't think too hard about the trailers, not expecting to be in the target demographic of who it's aimed at based on this particular film. "Usually, yeah! Especially when I was younger. I love anything that makes me laugh."</p><p>He continues his sour patch kids before frowning. "Where's your popcorn?"</p><p> </p><p>That made sense. Dirk had always gotten the impression that he'd be into comedy - though, that might have only been a preconceived notion he'd gotten from Dave, thanks to all the pranks.</p><p>"I wasn't going to get it if you didn't split with me. You said it gets stuck in your teeth." Dirk says, eating another nacho.</p><p> </p><p>He was going to see how many of those he could get Dirk to eat without him stepping in. "You should have gotten it if you wanted it. Be innocuously selfish once in a while, man." John wiggles a twizzler at him, ignoring the screen entirely.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk huffs a laugh through his nose, shaking his head at the offered twizzler. He could feel John's eyes on him though, so he tore his eyes from the boring trailer on the screen to look at him. "It's just popcorn, John. Not exactly a guilty pleasure. I wanted to get something that we could share."</p><p>At that, Dirk gestures to the nachos in the little cardboard carrier.</p><p> </p><p>John flops the twizzler back the other way and takes a bite instead, once Dirk declines it. The offhand mention of wanting something the two of them could eat together makes something warm feel like it's settling in his belly. He glances at the little boat of nachos, then back at Dirk. Man, he really needed to get over this before he made things weird again.</p><p>"You mean you wanted something I'd finish for you."</p><p> </p><p>"Same difference. We didn't stop for food. I want you to eat something other than twizzlers," Dirk shrugs a shoulder as if he'd taken the most obvious course of action in the world. He picks at a nacho, letting the cheese drip off of it, but not actually eating it. "And I don't eat a lot. It's just simple cause and solution."</p><p> </p><p>"I have twizzlers <em>and</em> sour patch kids though. Remember? Because you keep spending money on me when I'm trying to spend money on you? Gotta tell you, Dirk, it's super frustrating to be outdone when I wanna be a good friend." John aims an intense look at him that's most likely undone by the way the lights are dimming further now that the trailers are over. "You gotta let me do things sometimes!" Despite being alone in the theater, he still lowers his voice on instinct before leaning in and tilting his head to try and snatch the chip out of Dirk's fingers. It's close enough to the rest that he gets a smudge of cheese on his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>"What can I say, I'm naturally competitive. Besides, you bought the tickets. We're even." Dirk almost pulls his hand away when John dives down, but thinks better of it when he sees what he's trying to do. Poorly, if the cheese on his face had anything to say for it. A small smile played at his lips as he sort of awkwardly angled the chip into John's mouth, a small laugh escaping him in a breath. He lowered his voice to match John's, though he hadn't even glanced at the screen at all the past few minutes.</p><p>"It's on your face. And I'm giving you permission to, y'know. Use your own hands on the nachos, not just rely on me to feed you like a baby. Feel free." Dirk easily swiped off the cheese on John's cheek with the back of his finger, quick enough that he didn't have to think too much about it.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, and you know damn well the snacks cost more." His smile softens into something more gentle, surprised when Dirk wipes away the cheese for him. He can still feel that starchy, greasy film leftover from where it sat, and knows that if he doesn't clean it with something wet it'll just firm up like a thin layer of plastic. But for now he just smiles up at Dirk, happy that the dim lights hide the color in his face.</p><p>"Thanks." It takes another several seconds for John to snap out of it and sit up, turning to face the screen just in time for the title card to display. He swipes his hand through the condensation on his cup and rubs it vigorously over his cheek, then wipes it away on the shoulder of his shirt. "And yeah, I know! But I'll wait until you're done so I can hoover up the leftovers."</p><p> </p><p>John stares at him just long enough in that moment that Dirk feels a warmth spread across his face - if only because he couldn't bring himself to look away. Thank fuck John couldn't see it. The last thing he needed was to get clowned because he was blushing over the literal <em>gaze</em> of someone's attention.</p><p>John really wasn't the ideal person to share romantic tension with, after they'd just gotten their friendship back on the rails.</p><p>He needs to get laid, he thinks. That's what it was.</p><p>That... <em>was</em> what this was, wasn't it?</p><p>Dirk's own thought jarrs himself enough that it takes him a few more seconds to realize John's looked away until he spots his hand gathering droplets from his cup. He blinks, sitting up a bit straighter and turning back to the screen.</p><p>"I'm done. You can feed me more Twizzlers later on, if you're concerned about me wasting away in the next hour and a half." Dirk nudges the boat of nachos, turning the less eaten side towards John, watching the movie's first exposition montage instead of looking back.</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, okay, first off there's <em>no way</em> you're done already. You barely touched them, dude. Second, twizzlers are basically soft plastic, they would be the <em>last</em> thing I try to feed you if I thought you were starving. They barely have flavor. Red Vines are better, when they don't turn into candy jerky. There needs to be a middle ground."</p><p>John finishes his ramble, pushing the nachos right on back before trying to drink the melted syrup at the bottom of his cup. He holds the drink out, straw tilted toward Dirk as he finally turns his attention to the movie.</p><p> </p><p>"I ate half. That's pretty much par for the course, man. I thought you'd caught on by now, considering you just hassled me over not eating much five minutes ago." Dirk turns the nachos right back around, stubbornly. Even if he <em>was</em> still hungry, he wouldn't back down from the offer at this point, seeing John so adamant.</p><p>Regardless though, he leans in to take a sip from John's straw (also avoids thinking about the implications - it was just a drink, jesus) only to wince when he got a mouthful of sort-of-cold-mostly-syrup. Ugh.</p><p>"Why would you let me drink that? That's barely a slushie anymore."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, duh, that was my point. I wanted you to eat more!" John shakes the container, leveling out the chips a bit and knowing if Dirk doesn't eat them soon, the cheese will start to solidify and be inedible. "So just eat until you're full and I'll get what's left."</p><p>He also shakes his slushy, scowling into the cup. "Damn, thought I got rid of most of it. Sorry, man." John takes another pull of liquid before pushing his straw around to clumsily stir it, leaving the end about halfway down in the large cup before offering it again. "Here, should be better."</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>am</em> full." Dirk insists, starting to feel a bit flustered at John's pressing. He knew it was from a good place - but that didn't mean it didn't make him feel sort of mothered. If what Dirk had heard about John's dad was true, the phrase <em>like father like son</em> had never been more accurate.</p><p>He took another sip from the straw, meeting John's eyes briefly over the rim of his shades to give him a look that was meant to drive the point home. If John could even see it much, in the dark. The slushie was a lot more pleasant this time. Still a little too melted for his tastes, but he wouldn't complain again.</p><p> </p><p>He can barely make out the expression, but he still knows Dirk is <em>looking</em> at him, and John glances away before he does something stupid like blush at him.</p><p>"Whatever! Fine." He takes the container in his lap, slotting his drink in Dirk's cup holder in a trade. The movie starts in earnest, and despite not having high hopes, John tries to pay attention; they <em>did</em> pay for this, after all.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk seems content with that development, sitting back properly in his seat to turn his attention back to the movie. It was pretty much what he would have expected out of a modern comedy. Something about the same quality of a made for TV movie, that somehow had enough of a budget to cast a once upon a time A-List actor as the lead. Likely the only reason it was pushed to the silver screen. Maybe not. Dirk wasn't entirely sure how the movie industry worked, but it might have been a good question for Dave.</p><p>He had to admit, the movie was only barely passing the threshold of <em>so bad it's entertaining.</em> He had been occasionally offering a few words to John as the movie went on, but <em>'unoriginal'</em> and <em>'Adam Sandler humor'</em> were the hottest critiques. He tilted his head to John during a particularly unfunny gag.</p><p>"I'll be honest. I'm struggling to give this a chance, Egbert."</p><p> </p><p>For once, Dirk was the one doing most of the talking during this particular film. It was... <em>boring</em>. John spent his time leaning on the armrest, head on his fist, as he rooted through the box of sour patch kids for the better flavors or shoveling the quickly cooling nachos into his mouth.</p><p>He turns a grimace on Dirk, agreeing. "Yyyyyyeah. No surprise it's empty despite releasing earlier this week. It isn't too late to dip out into another theater though, if you want?"</p><p> </p><p>"Sure. As long as you're not afraid of movie hopping." Dirk says it only with the intention of teasing, sitting up a bit straighter like he was ready to get up at a moment's notice. Which, yeah, he was. This movie sucked ass.</p><p> </p><p>"Remember when I called you a bad influence, dude?" John gathers what's left of his snacks, clutching them to his chest as he stands. The dark room paired with the sticky floor and having his arms full kind of messes with his depth perception and sense of balance, and he wobbles unsteadily for a moment. "Just - lead the way."</p><p> </p><p>"I do remember that. Fence hopping and theater hopping are just about the same level of minor crime." Dirk rests his hand briefly on John's arm to steady him, taking the slushie and nachos from his hands to lighten the load a bit.</p><p>He steps past him, taking the weirdly wide steps two at a time easily thanks to his long legs, leading the way just as John asked. "Do you remember what <em>I</em> told <em>you</em> about how not to get caught?"</p><p> </p><p>He allows him to take the snacks, leaning just slightly into his hand before following him down the stairs. "Pff. Come on, as long as we stay on this side of the theater and don't linger too long in the hallway it'll be fine. So pick fast, dude."</p><p> </p><p>"You're learning." Dirk quips, turning the corner at the bottom of the stairs to go down the exit ramp. Once he reaches the threshold of the double doors, he opens one with his hip and glances at the showings on the tickers above the theater numbers.</p><p>"Two down across the hall. It's a romcom, but started at the same time as this one. Are you willing to risk it?"</p><p> </p><p>He rolls his eyes and almost bumps into Dirk's back at the door. "You're treating me like some clumsy asshole, dude. I can be sneaky!"</p><p>A romcom, huh. That leads his thoughts to Karkat, which of course leads to Dave, and John scowls into the bag of twizzlers. But it doesn't feel intentional this time, so he doesn't blame Dirk for it. "Sure. Anything's better than this. Even getting thrown out." His knee bumps up against the back of Dirk's thighs, just below his ass. "So get a move on!"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was just off his guard enough to stumble at the nudge to the back of his thighs - luckily too high to have his knees buckling and ending in an embarrassing catastrophe. Though, it was also just close enough to his ass that the embarrassment still prickled itself up the back of Dirk's neck. Maybe a little of something else, too. He chose not to think too hard about it.</p><p>"I was waiting for you to catch up, jackass." He mutters, stepping out of the doorway and letting the heavy door close after them before making a beeline for the other theater. It didn't seem like anyone was paying attention, but Dirk didn't throw a look over his shoulder anyway. Too suspicious. He tucked the slushie between his forearm and chest to open the set of double doors for John.</p><p> </p><p>"I was behind you for like five seconds!" As they step out into the hall, his voice falls into a whisper just in case. John follows close, probably a little closer than what would seem natural, but since no one called out to them, he supposes it's all fine.</p><p>He slips into the new theater, sticking a foot out to keep the door open for Dirk as well. "Thanks. Do you think we missed anything good?"</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe a riveting montage of the big city girl adjusting to life in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. I can't imagine much else." Dirk guesses, following John into the barely lit hallway, and quietly closing the door. He brushes past John once again to take his place as designated leader, and when he's made it up the ramp and does the briefest glance of the room, he immediately decides to head straight to the top. The place was pretty much packed full of couples, making the seating situation a bit more hairy.</p><p>The second row from the top only has one pair of teenagers though, so it would have to do. He snags a seat near the middle again, about a comfortable six seats away from the other two on the aisle. He whispers to John once they were sitting down.</p><p>"Gotta admit I didn't expect this movie to have this many people interested."</p><p> </p><p>It obviously takes John a little longer to see over the divider, but when he does he huffs out a barely audible 'woof' behind Dirk. He's ready to try another room, because slipping in unnoticed was definitely not happening here, but Dirk continues on and he has no choice but to follow.</p><p>The seats aren't great, but at least they aren't directly beside someone else. As John situates himself he notices that the majority of the other viewers are all leaning together, holding hands, or just generally all up on one another, and he starts to consider the other ways this must have been a mistake.</p><p>He leans in close to Dirk, head tilted up to try and speak into his ear, "So it looks like this one is a bit more popular, huh?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk shivers involuntarily when he feels John's breath against his ear, but does his best to hide it. It had to have been an innocent gesture on John's part, but he knew he would connect the dots if Dirk went all visibly jumpy just because of some whispering. He pretended to be unaffected, tipping his head a bit to murmur back to John.</p><p>"Romcoms aren't a dying breed after all. I was wrong to doubt the cultural staple this represents as a cliche date activity."</p><p> </p><p>He tilts his head so he can hear Dirk clearly over the actors in the movie, huffing a quiet laugh. "Yeah, now look what you've done. We have to sit here and watch a myriad of couples canoodling in disappointing seats with probably rowdy teens nearby."</p><p>He does his best to nudge Dirk over the armrest before tucking back into the nachos. Sooner or later he's gonna catch someone making out and it's only gonna make things awkward so the more often he's distracted, the better.</p><p> </p><p>"You kneed me in the ass to get us here faster. You're just as guilty as I am for this outcome." Dirk whispers, leaning back and drawing his attention over to the movie. He wondered briefly if he should focus on connecting the dots as to what had happened already - but that was a waste of his own narrative capabilities.</p><p>"We've missed basically every establishing element of the movie so far. Should we make up the plot for ourselves?"</p><p> </p><p>"Only because you were wasting time by picking on me!" John finishes the nachos and curls the container up into a cone so he can stuff it into a cup holder without cheese getting everywhere. His drink was probably two-thirds thawed by now, which was a shame, so he sets in on the twizzlers instead.</p><p>"I'm sure it's not that hard to figure out. What's the most cliche thing you can think of? That's most likely the plot."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk almost argues, but thinks better of it. John being right only had a little bit to do with it. He watches the movie instead, gathering only enough information to establish who's the lead, and who's the token gay best friend.</p><p>"I already started in on it earlier. Most romcoms are about a woman deciding to give up her career in the city because she finds love in the middle of nowhere with a man that has a shitty job but a big heart. If it's on TV, it all happens during Christmas. There's probably a bookstore or a coffee shop involved."</p><p> </p><p>John laughs, just a little too loudly compared to their whispering, and a couple heads turn in the rows ahead of him. He bites down in his lip and sinks into his seat, embarrassed. When there aren't any eyes on him, he stuffs some candy into his mouth.</p><p>"Why even bother watching it at this point, then? I think you've got it pegged."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt himself smile when John laughed at his prediction, feeling a dumb little surge of pride that he'd just as quickly dismiss. He shrugs a shoulder at the question.</p><p>"I could be wrong. There's a chance she could be falling for a dive bar musician when she's supposed to be marrying the boring lawyer her father introduced her to. Or she's in a fierce rivalry with a business partner, until she realizes he's the only one who really understands her. Et cetera, ad infinitum."</p><p> </p><p>John turns to watch him as he speaks, clearly more interested in Dirk than the screen in front of them. "...Just how many romcoms have you watched, buddy? You seem pretty familiar with the tropes."</p><p> </p><p>"Enough." Dirk leaves it at that. He was no expert, this stuff just stuck to templates - once you figured those out, there wasn't much more to it, and they all looked the same. What could he say? He was a critic at heart.</p><p>He'd started to say as much, and maybe inform John that the Hallmark channel was a goldmine for vapid bullshit, when his thoughts were interrupted by noise from further down the row.</p><p>Dirk shouldn't even give himself the privilege of being displeased that the teenagers back here in the nosebleeds were giggling and making out. It came with the territory, and he knew that when he chose it. Maybe not the best outcome with John right next to him, though.</p><p>"...They're not hard to figure out."</p><p> </p><p>John smiles and raises his eyebrows, waiting for the added information and critique he's sure to come, but when something else pulls Dirk's attention away he cranes his neck to figure out just what it was.</p><p>Ah.</p><p>He huffs out a little laugh, lips pursed in an uncomfortable wince as he settles back in his seat. A hand lifts to run through his hair, and John's surprised when he knocks something askew. "Oh damn, forgot about these." He readjusts Dirk's glasses back on his head before turning toward the movie.</p><p>"Yeah I guess not. Once they figure out that formula they stick with it, huh? And the <em>fans</em> definitely still dig it. Not that they're paying much attention to anything but each other, right?"</p><p> </p><p>"It's the buildup. Movie dates are only ever long, torturous foreplay." Dirk remarks idly, noticing another couple much farther away starting to kiss, near the middle row. Sort of completely defeated the purpose of the back rows, if the couples didn't care enough to hide in them - but maybe romcom movie etiquette was different. How should Dirk know? He'd never seen one in theaters, romantic connotation or no.</p><p>Fuck, he hopes John doesn't think he planned this shit.</p><p> </p><p>It's getting harder to find safe directions to look. John feels kind of warm and awkward, but he doesn't want to call attention to it. "Is this why no one likes movies that much? They only watch them for foreplay? Shit, I really missed the memo huh."</p><p>He bites the heads off of a few more candy people, sticking them together at the sticky joints. "This is <em>really</em> the movie you picked."</p><p> </p><p>"You wanted to stay on this side of the theater. It was a gamble, and I had my doubts that anyone would even be in here." Dirk says, almost defensively. He was doing his best to seem unaffected, but Dirk was only good at <em>pretending</em> to be stone faced. He was very aware that this situation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the second - if only because out of all of his friends, of fucking <em>course</em> he would experience it with John.</p><p> </p><p>"Mmh. You're bad at gambling, dude." John laughs again, pitched a little sharper than usual as he holds out a Franken-Kid(...'s monster? Whatever, he lost himself in the joke already) for Dirk. "You don't think it'll get R-rated in here, do you? It's not <em>that</em> romantic, and it's pretty packed."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk simply breathes a sigh in dissent, because there was really no getting himself out of this one. He takes the candy from John, rolling it between his thumb and index finger idly. It made a little sprinkle of the citric acid rain onto his jeans.</p><p>"If it does, we can resort back to our original plan of being complete cockblocks." Dirk flicks the sour patch kid back at John for emphasis. "These things make great ammo for anyone getting handsy."</p><p> </p><p>He brushes the mess away from where it lands on his shoulder, smirking. "I dunno man. It was one thing if we had to fight off two or three people. But in this case we'd have the whole room against us. The odds definitely wouldn't be on our side in that case. We would absolutely get kicked out, or they'd just beat us up for ruining a romantic outing."</p><p> </p><p>"You think I couldn't take a handful of normies in hand to hand combat?" Dirk says, glancing back over to John. He'd been doing his best to tune out the kissing noises, but once he'd noticed it, it only made it significantly more difficult to ignore. It was easier just to look at John, instead of forcing himself to stare at the screen with the couple in his peripheral vision.</p><p> </p><p>He has to smack a hand over his mouth to keep from drawing everyone's attention again with another loud snort. Once the stifled laughter subsides, he curls his feet up onto the seat with him so he can turn more toward Dirk and push himself up closer to whisper conspiratorially. "But a whole-ass nearly packed theater? No way in hell could you take them all on by yourself."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt himself smiling, laughing through his nose while John was so desperately trying to keep his snorts in. He wondered just how long he could keep that up. "At once? No. If angry mobs worked the same as they did in video games, though, absolutely. I could easily take them in waves by row - mostly because no one expects to be uppercut in the middle of a romcom."</p><p> </p><p>A particularly determined giggle bursts out of him, and a loud shushing comes from somewhere below and to the right of them. John gasps in affront, elbowing Dirk to stage whisper, "Can you believe this, they'll hush a laugh but have no problem with the loud macking from every direction. Damn."</p><p>John pulls a twizzler from the package and wiggles it around before returning to their conversation. "But anyway, it won't be video game logic, everyone in arm's reach will be grabbing for you. You don't think you could win?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was happy with the response he got, even if it was accompanied by shushing. John had nice laugh, and he hadn't been able to hear it much, lately. He was happy he'd been able to ease him out of his slump, even if it was for just this afternoon, and preceded by a sort of shaky start.</p><p>"Assuming in this situation that I'd be fighting alone, and also attempting to escort you out? I could <em>escape.</em> I'd wager things would get a little hairy halfway through the fighting approach. If I had my sword, it would be a different story." Dirk seemed to be taking the scenario all too seriously - the only thing missing were a few specific percentages about his odds.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Oh my god</em>..." John buries his face in his hands, almost knocking the shades loose again. "I can't believe you're even thinking about using a sword in an unarmed crowd, holy <em>shit</em> Dirk." He has to curl in on himself a little to stop the nervous laughter. It felt like a long time since he'd laughed like this, and part of it felt a little hysterical, but he's happy. Even if it did feel a little oddly paced.</p><p>"And for the record, I wouldn't need the escort. I was thinking more along the lines of you doing it to impress me, you know? How many disgruntled grabby couples could you take on your own before I needed to swoop in and rescue you?"</p><p> </p><p>The smile doesn't leave Dirk's face, but he does take his shades from John's head before they could clatter onto the gross floor. He tucks them into the collar of his own shirt. "Since when am I the damsel here? Are you implying that you're the one that could handle fighting this whole theater instead?"</p><p> </p><p>John tries to take them back almost immediately. "Nah. But if it came down to it, I could just pick you up and bodycheck my way through the crowd. I could probably fight a couple but no one could stop me from pushing through." He loops his finger underneath the arm of the glasses where it hangs in his shirt, waiting to see if he'd be stopped.</p><p> </p><p>"Fair enough. I could escape on my own, though." Dirk is briefly lost in picturing that particular scenario - he couldn't imagine any reaction he would theoretically have that didn't involve him completely fucking swooning - before he grabs John's hand, hooking two fingers under John's to try and pull them away from his shades.</p><p> </p><p>"Probably." He thinks he's being slick right up until Dirk grabs him. John laughs again and curls the finger more to try and keep his grip on the shades before Dirk can push his hand away. He twists his wrist, forearm tense as he struggles. "Noooo. Those are mine until the movie's over."</p><p> </p><p>"We're not watching the movie." Dirk's free hand carefully holds the bridge of his shades, just for extra leverage, and tries to pluck John's finger away from the arm. It's sort of difficult to manage at such a weird angle, and he's not sure how successful it will be. "I'm well within my rights to keep them."</p><p> </p><p>Well, if he's gonna cheat like that... John smiles and moves his other hand up to gently curl around the lower lens, edges poking into his palm and fingers, but all he does is hold it as his finger is almost pried away. "Looking at the screen would mean seeing strangers getting fresh. You put them in my hand, so it's my turn to have them."</p><p> </p><p>"Your turn? They're <em>my</em> shades, dude. And now you're getting your handprints all over them." And with those handprints, the shades weren't really going anywhere. It was a stalemate. Dirk realized they were basically just holding hands.</p><p>For once, he didn't feel the urge to jerk away after a realization like that.</p><p> </p><p>"And as someone very familiar with glasses and how to clean them, I will clean the handprints <em>after</em> I hold them for the rest of the movie-and-hangout-probably." He says the last in a rush, but not fast enough that it mignt sound like he actually believed he was being sneaky about it.</p><p>John twists his wrist again, finger slipping out from under the wire arm, and he tries to break the hold Dirk has on his hand so he can use it as a distraction to pull his shades to himself.</p><p> </p><p>"The rest of the <em>movie.</em>" Dirk clarifies, shifting his grip just enough to hold John's hand properly (sort of anyway, he was kind of just squeezing all of John's fingers) and tighten his grip on the bridge of his spare shades. He probably would have given in, if these were his prototype. "Full stop there, you gremlin. Why do you even want them, anyway?"</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't get any idea of whether they were done after the movie or not - Dirk had just said he wanted to hang out, and he didn't correct John's assumption, so who knew. Dirk just has his hand now, and he doesn't exactly seem distracted, but John doesn't give up. He shakes the hand around the glasses gently, pushing them up so he can try and unhook the arm. "Because they're yours."</p><p> </p><p>"Right. I should have known better than to ask." He realizes that he was at a bit of a disadvantage with only one finger around the shades and his other hand holding John's, so he has to sort of. Walk his grip on top of John's. He was holding both of John's hands more than the shades at this point, but at least he couldn't move much like this. "You're not getting these back today. It's better that you accept it now."</p><p> </p><p><em>Now</em> is when John realizes just how much contact there is between them. His smile wavers, dims just a bit, before he rolls his eyes and leans away. "Whatever, <em>fine</em>. It's not like you're using them right now anyway. Greedy." His fingers unfurl from around the lens, but with Dirk's hand now covering his own he can't exactly let go.</p><p>It's kind of funny that at the start of the first movie he wanted to hold Dirk's hand. But now that it's unintentional, it feels kind of bad.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk had partially been expecting John to put up more of a fight, but something about the way John had looked at him in that moment sort of spoke for itself. Maybe he should have let go first.</p><p>He did so awkwardly, his pinky still wrapped around the bridge of the shades as he pulls them away and puts them on top of his head. He looks away from John, glancing back to the screen. The kids at the end of the row weren't making out anymore, it seemed. "I'm only protecting them from getting lost to the disgusting movie theater floors during your giggle fits, bro."</p><p> </p><p>John turns toward the screen as well, and it takes him a solid five seconds to realize he's even more lost than when they came in as far as plot goes. "Dude, I've been taking care of glasses almost my whole life, give me some credit." He's feeling a bit imbalanced right now, so he twirls a licorice rope in the air to keep his attention on something.</p><p> </p><p>"The kamina shades are completely different, man. Way more fragile without the frames. If they landed face down, there's an alarmingly high chance they would fuse with the soda residue on the floor."</p><p>He watches John twirl the Twizzler out of the corner of his eye, before it takes his attention from the screen again. No winners showing in this theater, apparently.</p><p> </p><p>"Sure." John entertains himself with candy for a good couple minutes more - he splits it in thirds down the middle and braids it back together again before taking a bite and watching it unravel - before leaning toward Dirk again. Something in him wants to ask if Dirk wants to get out of there, but he also doesn't want to lose this quiet moment with just the two of them. (And the small army of couples surrounding them, but whatever.) His mouth hangs open for a second, about to ask, before he shuts it with a little smile instead. He offers his cat-of-nine-tails of a twizzler.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was still watching John as he disassembled his licorice, so the way he fell short of saying something didn't go unnoticed. He leaned slightly closer (because maybe John was trying to whisper to him) and plucked a thin strand of Twizzler from John's hand that he'd probably just end up playing with. It was sort of sticky at one end, from where John had bit into it.</p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>He feels a little warm again, when he realizes Dirk had been watching, and subsequently saw John's aborted attempt. They could still leave, maybe go bowling or something together, but instead of asking that, he smiles and tilts his head just a little closer. "Why did you wanna hang out?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk blinks at John, obviously not expecting the question. "I..."</p><p>He offered the single word without actually knowing where he was going with it, briefly searching John's eyes as if they had some sort of lifeline he could have clung to, because the truth was a lot more embarrassing than he wanted to admit.</p><p>He sat back a bit in his seat, averting his eyes to the movie like he hadn't just been asked a question, but that only lasts for a few seconds. And somehow, what he ends up saying was just as embarrassing as <em>'You were nice and understanding, and I wanted more of that.'</em></p><p>"I don't know. I missed you." His brows furrow, shifting in his seat uncomfortably like he'd realized what he said only after he said it, which was entirely accurate. "It's - uh. Been a while, I guess. We had a fight the last time I saw you, so it was nice to see you again. Which, in retrospect, wasn't a while ago. But the last few times weren't the..." Dirk cut himself off, before he talked for-fucking-ever, and breathed a sigh, deciding to just double back.</p><p>"I missed you."</p><p> </p><p>His chest feels tight, when Dirk can't answer right away, but it isn't an unpleasant sensation somehow. John just watches him, leaning slightly into his space as he waits for an answer or a brushoff or even just nothing.</p><p>He registers Dirk's discomfort before he registers the words. John can't say anything for a moment, once it clicks, and he's very grateful for the scene change to a dark bar so the lighting was dim enough that the blood he can feel pulsing just beneath the skin isn't visible.</p><p>"Oh. Yeah, I uh. I missed you too." When he swallows, his tongue feels too thick, mouth too dry, and he reaches for his chilled, watered-down syrup to take a drink. This felt like a <em>Moment</em>, and he knew he was probably gonna have to settle for the knowledge that they'd be having this chat in the middle of a packed theater. "I kind of thought I fucked it up a few days ago."</p><p> </p><p>"You didn't." Dirk was tapping his fingers on his thigh, just a step away from anxiously bouncing his knee. Though, he does manage to bring his eyes back to John, if only briefly. Part of him wishes he could say more, but he didn't have any idea where to begin. <em>You were right,</em> might have been a good start, though.</p><p>"It meant a lot that you apologized."</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="timestamp">
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</div><p>John licks his lips, eyes flicking down and back up. This conversation felt intimate and, again, tense in not an entirely bad way. "... I mean, I started by yelling at Dave to talk to you but he just yelled back and told me to come over and talk to you myself. I was... gonna hide at my dad's for a few days because texting or calling didn't feel right, and I didn't think Dave would let me come over. But he <em>did</em>, even though he still..." His hand twists haphazardly in the air. "You know."</p><p>After taking a moment to fill his lungs and gather his thoughts, John touches Dirk's arm, leaning in. "I'm sorry. I know I already said all that, but I just wanna point out that I'm going to try to do better for you, okay?" '<em>Because you deserve it,</em>' goes unsaid; he already pushed a little today.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's fingers curl where they'd been tapping a pseudo rhythm on his thigh, and he could feel a wave of warmth rushing to flood his cheeks. His heart fluttered in a way that he would definitely compartmentalize away, and he tried not to stew in just how fucking <em>embarrassed</em> he was feeling at this attention. John was a great guy, but he had a tendency to make things intimate without even realizing it (probably).</p><p>Or maybe Dirk just had a tendency to get the fucking vapors at any genuine affection anyone shot his direction. Or both. Probably both.</p><p>"I'll have to thank him." Dirk mutters, lapsing into silence for a few more seconds before he manages to string the rest of his words together. "And I forgive you, for what it's worth. I've told you that already, but I'm not expecting you to accept it."</p><p> </p><p>Now feels like the time they should be holding hands, but John feels like it'd be pushing too hard to try. So he curls his fingers around his forearm, squeezing just once before pulling his hand away.</p><p>"Yeah. That'd be good. And who knows. Maybe I'll come around." The smile he aims up at Dirk is brighter than the others lately, if a bit soft. "I'm glad I met you. Despite uh. Everything, you know."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk knew the way those words would worm their way into his brain and under his skin as soon as John said them, and the way John was smiling at him certainly didn't deter Dirk from shifting awkwardly again. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself, so he just let his hand settle lamely in his lap, and stares adamantly at the seat in front of him when he's unable to meet John's eyes.</p><p>There was a small smile curving up the corners of his mouth.</p><p>"Yeah. I'm, uh. Me too."</p><p> </p><p><em>Hoo boy.</em> This is doing <em>something</em> to John's insides. He doesn't think he can take much more of this... <em>whatever</em> it is, before breaking out into a sweat or saying something stupid. So despite not being able to follow the movie at all, he tries his damndest to fill in the blanks despite it being about half over, he wagers.</p><p>He doesn't <em>ignore</em> Dirk so much as just not look directly at him for a while, trying to get his pulse back under control, but when he does finally glance over to say something mocking about this particular scene's script, it kind of looks like Dirk isn't paying attention. To anything.</p><p>After a few more seconds of watching him, John rolls up the severed head of a sour patch kid, tossing it over and trying to get it to bounce off of his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>Admittedly, Dirk hadn't been giving the movie any sort of attention since John had last spoken to him. He was too busy thinking about... well.</p><p>It wasn't too hard to guess what he was thinking about, was it?</p><p>Dirk was deep enough in his thoughts that the sour patch kid launch makes him jolt, one of his hands jerking up instinctively to catch it on the way down after it hit his cheek. He might have been able to pretend like nothing happened, if John wasn't the culprit, and looking right at him.</p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>John smiles again at the reaction, and only feels a <em>little</em> guilty at breaking him out of his thoughts so sharply that he jumped like that. "You're missing some choice script writing, dude. And I think you should pull out of your head a little bit."</p><p>He wiggles in his seat, nervous for only a second, before trying again. "You know, we could always just get out of here, if you want."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels his haunches lower a bit when John smiles at him (<em>fuck</em>) and sits up straighter in his seat. He was reaching for something to say, because he was still feeling stupidly flustered, and the last thing John said sounding like a proposition was only fuel for the fire. <em>Jesus, Strider. Get your shit together.</em></p><p>He takes a moment to compose himself, but he's able to pass it off as something like consideration, he thinks.</p><p>"You want to try one of the crane games in the lobby?"</p><p> </p><p>While Dirk thinks, John runs the words through his head again. Something about them felt familiar but not quite to <em>him</em>. The saying just left a little tingle at the back of his neck, like it was trying to convey something specific that he couldn't quite place. But instead of trying to chase that thought, Dirk makes his decision and John eagerly accepts.</p><p>"Absolutely. I'm ready to waste like twenty bucks on those things." He immediately starts gathering all their leftovers before turning back to his friend. Did he mean right now, or was John jumping the gun a bit?</p><p> </p><p>Dirk couldn't help but smile a bit at John's eagerness, grabbing the slushie cup as John gathers the snacks. Maybe he should have suggested the game earlier.</p><p>"Your lack of crane game prowess is showing, bro. I get that the things are rigged, but a twenty? I'm interested to see you blow it as many times." He gets to his feet nonchalantly, as if he hadn't just talked a whole load of shit, taking a brief sip of the slushie and waiting for John to follow suit.</p><p> </p><p>"I'd <em>love</em> to see just how many prizes you can win with a twenty. If any." He spares his friend a little smirk that wavers as he considers just how casually Dirk drinks from his melted cup. John stands, hunched needlessly, and darts down the aisle toward the stairs, glancing back just once before making his way down the pathway to the big swinging door. He dumps his trash, eating the last of his candy and wiping his hands as he holds the door for Dirk.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk follows closely after him, catching a couple of looks from the people he knew had shushed John's earlier giggling. He reminded himself instigating a fight wasn't on the agenda, and took one last gulp of the barely-even-a-slushie-anymore before tossing it in the trash. He drops his shades over his eyes before brushing past John into the hall, where it was surprisingly quiet. He supposed it always was, without the hustle and bustle of grabbing snacks and rushing to theaters before the movies started.</p><p>Dirk tucks his hands into his pockets, leading the way down the dim hall towards the lobby, eyeing the crane game all the way - it was sort of out in the open across the lobby, in plain view.</p><p>"I just need to get a feel for how she handles. Then, it'll be a piece of cake."</p><p> </p><p>John follows suit with a little smile, using the silence and the fact that Dirk was a few steps ahead to run through their conversation. He still couldn't really get over the fact that Dirk said he missed him.</p><p>The only real positive encounters they've had were the date and the party after they decided to be friends. And that's all it took apparently for Dirk to miss him. John almost bumps into Dirk's back with the dumb little spring in his step from the giddiness, but thankfully he's able to hide it by smacking him on the back as he comes up beside him.</p><p>"That's the dumbest and weirdest thing I've ever heard you say, man."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk glanced over to John when he claps him on the back before he blinks at him flatly. Dirk had been perfectly clear about what he'd said, and didn't seem to understand what the problem was. He chooses to ignore whatever issue John seemed to have with it, partly because he didn't understand, and partly because he had something else bouncing around in his head.</p><p>That moment with John had stuck with Dirk just as he'd expected it to. The way John had smiled at him when he said it made his stomach twist (Pleasantly? Uncomfortably?) with affection. <em>'I'm glad I met you.'</em></p><p>It should have been comically untrue for John, what with all the bullshit Dirk had put him through. But John had said it anyway. Despite everything. Dirk was surprised at the way he could feel a weight lifting slightly off his chest at the confession.</p><p>He stopped once they made it to the crane game, pulling out a ten dollar bill from his wallet and inserting it into the machine before John had a chance to protest. He steps back from the machine, giving John the chance to take the first attempt.</p><p>"Go ahead. I'm interested to see if you're as bad as you claim. I'll show you how it's done afterwards."</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't let the silence deter him. Dirk was an internal kinda guy, and John was starting to put together that just because he was lost in thought, maybe it didn't mean those thoughts were negative. He hopes. </p><p>When Dirk pulls out the bill, he settles against the side of the machine, ready to watch Dirk work. But when he's told he has to go first, John isn't above whining. "Aw, come on man. Don't put me through this torture. I'm telling you right now, looking at the way the prizes are smashed down, there's no way in hell I'll get anything, even if we spend fifty bucks."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk huffs a laugh, but stays firmly planted where he waited beside the controls. John's whining didn't seem to have much of an effect - not outwardly, at least.</p><p>"Ok, I sort of expected you to call my bluff." Dirk reaches over to grab John's arm lightly, giving a tug to try and maneuver him in front of the joystick. "I can teach you how to get one. But it's going to depend on the machine, first and foremost."</p><p> </p><p>John scoffs, but it chokes in his throat when Dirk starts to tug him around. "It's just gonna be a waste of money!" But he puts up no resistance, allowing himself to be maneuvered in front of the controls. There's a <em>very brief, stupid moment</em> where he wonders if this is going to be like Ghost, and John wisely keeps his mouth shut.</p><p>"All the machines are bad, it doesn't 'depend on the machine' at all, Dirk."</p><p> </p><p>"As much as I hate to <em>'Um, actually'</em> you, it actually does depend entirely on the machine. Some claw machines cycle through phases that indicate how tightly the claw should grasp the prize. There's virtually a zero percent chance of winning, roughly seventy five percent of the time." He nudges John, not wanting to physically lift his hand to put it on the joystick, but if John was going to keep up the stubbornness, he would do what he had to.</p><p>"Older machines can be modified inside the cabinet itself to set the grip strength, and are typically a lot more lenient. With these newer models designed to guzzle cash, it's about patterns." Dirk stated matter of factly, as if he hadn't just spouted off some incredibly niche knowledge about fucking claw machines.</p><p> </p><p>John waits patiently for Dirk to finish, nodding along and making no move to start up the claw. As soon as he's done, John leans against the control console and states as bluntly as Dirk had with his trivia, "You're a huge nerd." It's then that he breaks composure, snorting more at the fact he managed to keep a straight face and not necessarily at Dirk's nerdiness. "You and your machines, dude. I guess I'm not surprised that it extends to claw machines."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk opens his mouth to respond, feeling his face warm for reasons he didn't entirely understand, but probably had something to do with the fact that John's comment simultaneously flattered him, and hurt his pride a little. He closed his mouth.</p><p>He then distracted himself by grabbing John's hand, and placing it manually on the joystick of the machine.</p><p>"...Just take your turn, you ass. You do know how to work a joystick, don't you?"</p><p> </p><p>John continues his light laughter even as he's manhandled into working the machine. And then, it only grows more intense. "Oh my <em>god</em>, we <em>are</em> Ghost-ing it!" He tries to call him Swayze but it just stampers out of him because the claw shifts to the right a little with the pressure from their hands, and it startles him.</p><p>"God. Fine! But it'll still take a bunch of money to even learn this pattern, let alone get it timed right. Which means <em>you</em> should be doing it."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk lets his hand drop. As much as he might have been prone to potentially pulling a <em>Ghost,</em> he hasn't seen any reason John can't move the joystick on his own. At least, unless he lines it up incorrectly with the prize he wants. Dirk wasn't above stepping in, in that situation.</p><p>"We're not Ghosting anything, unless you prove to be particularly inept at moving a fucking stick." Dirk takes John's former place at leaning against the machine. "I can teach you verbally. Which means <em>you</em> should be doing it." He parrots John, stubbornly.</p><p> </p><p>John clicks his tongue against his teeth, already disappointed with the loss of contact. "Psh. Lame. Whatever, <em>fine</em>. Guide me. Teach me the ways of the claw." He doesn't waste time waiting for instruction despite his gripe, jiggling the joystick and focusing on a foot long plush salamander. It was <em>so</em> fat, and despite the tail being underneath something else, it was mostly on top of the pile.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk looks into the machine, watching John move the claw over and back to some sort of lizard plush. He had a slightly different view from his spot leaning against the side, and took advantage of that by giving John some tips.</p><p>"If you're going for the lizard, move it forward a bit more. And closer towards me. It should be easiest to grab it right under the head for more leverage. Not that it will matter if the grip strength is shit, but semantics."</p><p> </p><p>He follows the directions, face pinched in concentration. But John <em>does</em> pause to dart out a quick, "It's an amphibian, you <em>swine</em>," before pressing the button. As he expected, its position is almost perfect but the metal prongs just stretch back out over the round head and jangle closed as it pantomimes dropping a prize into the bin.</p><p>"I'm telling you, this tenner is gonna be wasted if I use it. Besides, didn't you wanna 'get a feel for how she handles,' you weirdo?"</p><p> </p><p>"How is that..." Dirk starts, but immediately trails off when something clicks in the back of his mind, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. For once, the innuendo was actually accidental. The damage was already done though, so he simply pushes off the machine, nudging John aside so he could take his place at the controls.</p><p>"Nevermind. Based on the grip strength I just saw, I'm not going to need to <em>feel</em> much of anything." Dirk repositions the claw. "I can still win your <em>amphibian</em>, though."</p><p> </p><p>John layers it on with a "Who <em>talks</em> like that?!" before he's pushed away from the machine. He doesn't go far this time, hovering beside Dirk while the older man situates himself.</p><p>"My hero. Besides, it's for the best. It'd probably just piss you off watching me fail over and over again."</p><p> </p><p>"No. You'd catch on, if you actually gave yourself the opportunity, instead of kicking your own ass about it." Dirk wiggles around the claw in a way that is obviously too fast for the machine to keep up with, and briefly makes the mechanism stutter.</p><p>"It's less about trying to get it on your first try, and more about using each move to your advantage." He maneuvers the claw over the salamander again, trying the same spot he'd directed to John. It's really not that obvious at all, but Dirk is able to notice the claw grips a bit looser this time around, just because he knew what he was looking for. He uses a second turn to grip the plush closer to its back where it's a bit wider, and manages to lift it about a foot closer to the goal.</p><p> </p><p>"I think I'll survive not listing 'good at crane games' in my special talents. That one's all yours Strider." Nothing happens on Dirk's first try, but when he moves it on the second, John eagerly presses his face into the plexiglass.</p><p>"Oh shit! Look at the tail!" What was previously buried under other prizes has now been revealed just a bit more, and now he can see that the tail is as plump and just as long as the body. "Oh my god, it's so <em>fat!</em> I need it!"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk couldn't help but smile when he saw John smushing his nose up against the plexi - and knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would be winning John this fat lizard no matter what it took. No turning back now, bro.</p><p>"It's pretty cute, yeah. It's also going to make this significantly more difficult, unless I manage to grab it right in the middle every single time, and/or this particular amphibian is capable of dropping its tail." The thing was pretty big now that the tail was revealed, and Dirk was sort of worried about it slipping out of the claw without enough counterbalance. It takes two more tries before he hits the sweet spot and lifts it again. It's <em>almost</em> a perfect extraction, but the drop is a little premature, and one of the stubby back feet gets stuck right on the plexiglass rim of the prize chute. Dirk mutters a brief curse under his breath, because the way the claw resets has it just out of his reach. He'd pretty much need to get another prize in the chute to knock them both in, or the salamander was doomed.</p><p>He was... taking this pretty seriously. He didn't even look at John as he moved the claw over to a particularly round looking cat plush.</p><p> </p><p>John worries his lip, debates telling Dirk not to worry about it, because he's pretty sure he can find the warehouse responsible for arcade prizes pretty easily if he actually looks, and also he could do a quick search for a similar or better plush for about the same cost and none of the work. But he also wants to see if Dirk can do it. </p><p>Not just to get the prize, and not just to make him put his money where his mouth is, but Dirk was always so impressive and 'being bomb at crane games' would only add another entry onto that list. And when it almost looks like he's about to get it, John feels his pulse quicken with adrenaline, like watching someone else get a high score on a video game; the potential for a vicarious victory makes him press even harder against the clear surface, eyes not leaving the plush for one second. </p><p>And then it catches on the lip of the bin and tugs out of the claw seconds too soon. And he knows there's no way he can grab it again. It would be heartbreaking if it weren't a toy in an arcade game. </p><p>John leans away with a 'what can you do' sigh, turning to tell Dirk he came way closer than John ever would, but Dirk still looks determined. His pulse stutters again, for a slightly different reason, and John pats his hand on his friend's back. "Look, I know you probably have a thing about winning, but it's just a lump of fabric! No big deal. Wanna buy a metric fuckton of bouncy balls instead and go wreak havoc?"</p><p> </p><p>"No. I almost have it." Dirk states simply.</p><p>Dirk's frown deepens when the cat - or maybe it was a squirrel? - plush drops from the claw almost immediately after grabbing it. It was heavy apparently, probably had those plastic beans inside, instead of the lighter stuffing. It would be great for getting the lizard into the prize chute, but not the easiest to actually lift with the claw. Regardless though, he was determined. He tries again immediately.</p><p> </p><p>John catches onto his plan after the first try, and as much as he wants that salamander, he isn't about to make Dirk suffer. "Come on, man, we both know that's the exact worst shape to try and scoop up. Just wait for the fair to come to town and win me a prize there.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk decides that the best course of action from here on out is quietly ignoring John's complaints, and immediately begins doing just that. He was trying not to feel the pressure of John watching him and the number of tries he had left ticking down, but it was difficult, to say the least. After a few calming breaths and several more attempts though, Dirk scores the second plush. He just barely manages to nudge the salamander in, and when they both fall into the prize chute, a grin breaks out over Dirk's face.</p><p>The smile showed only for a split second, and he quickly squashed it down, but <em>fuck</em> if he wasn't actually sort of proud of himself for holding out. He had one turn left, at that. He crouches down to grab the prizes, tucking the cat (squirrel??) under his arm before he holds the yellow salamander out to John. He sort of felt as if he should have had something to say, but what ends up coming out is a lame:</p><p>"Skillz."</p><p> </p><p>John is understandably ruffled when Dirk stops responding, but he only tries a couple more times to get him to give up before he's back on the plexiglass. The tension seems to ramp itself higher and higher and when Dirk finally drops the mini beanbag onto the salamander and they both drop, he jumps back with a loud <strong><em>whoop!</em></strong> that draws attention from the employees at the counter across the lobby.</p><p>John doesn't care though, especially when he whips around to praise Dirk and catches the swiftly smothered smile. His congratulations come a bit softer than he intended after that.</p><p>"Okay, so maybe I was wrong to doubt you. You're a true crane master. Which, even though it's still pretty nerdy, is also <em>really</em> cool." He accepts the plush and is delighted to find a silky, shimmery fabric makes up the sleek underbelly. "Oh my god, touch this-"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt his chest warm with affection at John's reaction, and mentally confirms that this was definitely worth the ten bucks. He reaches out to pet the plush salamander, surprisingly soft and smooth for what it was. It didn't feel cheaply made, despite the fact that it probably was.</p><p>He brushes off the praise as well as he could - mostly because he could tell John was being genuine and not clowning on him for once, and Dirk was shy about that shit  - shrugging a shoulder.</p><p>"I'll admit that I expected it to feel something like saran wrap despite its visual appeal, but it's actually nicely made. The seams are clean, too."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, usually the prizes in here are junk, but this one is really nice. Which probably means it'll split down the sides in like a month, but I'll love it nonetheless." Now he <em>definitely</em> felt like he owed Dirk something, but not out if obligation weirdly enough. He just wants to do something <em>good</em> for his friend.</p><p>"... Wanna get something to eat now? If we swing back to my place then we don't have to feel like I'm dodging a bullet just by ordering some fries."</p><p> </p><p>"Probably. If it does, I'll fix it for you." Dirk says idly, taking the cat-squirrel hybrid from under his arm to inspect it. The plastic pellets under the fabric were a lot less pleasing than John's salamander, and he wouldn't be surprised if the thing ripped and spilled beans at pretty much any point. Eventually, he turns his attention back to John.</p><p>"But yeah. We can stop by your apartment."</p><p> </p><p>John's lips quirk, eyebrows bouncing. "Wow, an engineer <em>and</em> a seamster, huh? You just have all the creative skills on lockdown don't you. Next you'll tell me you're an ace on the loom." He reaches forward with no preamble to give the little animal a hefty squeeze before hugging his new stuffed amphibian to his chest.</p><p>"What are you hungry for?"</p><p> </p><p>"I wouldn't go that far. The sewing prowess in our genes had a hard stop after my brother." Dirk remarks, squeezing the cat (he settled on cat) himself. The pellets felt sort of nice against his palm, in a weird way.</p><p>"I'm still not that hungry. But I'll eat something, wherever we end up going." Dirk smiles a bit when John hugs the salamander, starting to make his way for the exit. "If only because I'm well aware you'll complain if I don't."</p><p> </p><p>"Huh, well, I don't think I'd be desperate enough to ask that guy for help. So I'm putting her wellbeing in your capable hands." John hesitates, pursing his lips. "... I feel like I've said that to you before. Got a mad case of deja vu there."</p><p>He squishes the bean bag again before keeping step with Dirk, shoulder to shoulder. "Yeah, you know me so well. Blame it on the familial conditioning to mother-hen. I'm a grandparent in nature."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was silent for a few seconds too long, before he offers a simple: "You have."</p><p>He decides not to elaborate too much on that. They hadn't really talked about their first date since it happened, and Dirk wasn't sure having John remember was the best idea right now. He didn't want to risk fucking up the afternoon again. Instead, he just continues by shifting the subject.</p><p>"But regardless, I'm flattered that you would trust me with that responsibility." He doesn't mention that he meant what he'd said, and he was actually really shit at sewing. John didn't need to know that. "And that you would repay me in turn by nagging me to take better care of myself."</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't know what that silence is supposed to convey, but John worries that it isn't something positive based solely on Dirk's eventually response with no elucidation. "... Yeah, I mean. I guess I talk solely in stocks phrases, I'm bound to repeat some of them once in a while."</p><p>Even as he speaks, John wracks his brain, searching for whenever he might have said the stupid line before. Based on the context, he doesn't <em>think</em> it was something hugely negative, but you never know.</p><p>He gives up a moment later and hopes it wasn't important. "Well, I mean. She kind of <em>is</em> partially your responsibility. You did all the work to get her. As for the nagging, I'd do that for free."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk holds open the door for John once they reach the exit. He opened his mouth to complain as usual, and tell John he didn't need to worry about him. He manages to catch himself, and realizes it's exactly <em>not</em> the thing to say, and remembers what John had told him.</p><p>"...Thanks. But I really am fine, John." He remarks softly, before quickly changing the subject. "You've already decided she's a "she." Does she have a name?"</p><p> </p><p>"Just because it's what you're used to doesn't mean you're fine, Dirk." But he doesnt feel like laying it in very thick this time. John is content being a little nag once in a while if it'll go more smoothly than if he pulled out the big guns. And who knows, it might even end up with Dirk eating more out of spite from how annoying John is being. Win-win.</p><p>He cradles the toy in his arms, once again rubbing shoulders as they walk back to his car. "I've got something in mind. What would you name her?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't respond to that first part, because he wasn't entirely sure of what to say. It was a pretty common theme with John, all things considered. He focuses instead on John's shoulder, hyper aware of it every time it bumped his.</p><p>Once they reached the car, Dirk climbed in the passenger's seat, and held his hand out wordlessly for the yellow salamander. "Let me see her first."</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't mind that he's in his head again. It's something he's getting used to - Dirk's little bouts of silence. He likes to think that it doesn't necessarily mean Dirk is uncomfortable or upset, so John resolves to only say something to break the silence if it feels tense.</p><p>He smiles and leans against the frame of the car, giving his toy one last little squeeze before passing her over. "Be gentle. I don't wanna cash in on the repair offer so soon."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk takes the toy with both of his hands, purposefully, so he could look extra careful. He stares at the yellow salamander, and at this angle, John would be able to see his eyes squint behind his shades. It was a full minute before he said anything.</p><p>"Hatsune Miku."</p><p> </p><p>John watches, and waits, and leans down to try and intimidate Dirk into shortening the bit because it was <em>very</em> unlikely he was going to give a good name, and John's mind has been made up for a while now anyway.</p><p>The very second Dirk speaks, before the name even registers, John blurts, "That's a terrible choice, her name is Casey." And then he laughs when it processes. "God. Nerd." He gives the little salamander a pet, and one for Dirk's little ball for good measure, before heading around to the other side of the car. "So I know this question tanked earlier, but what are you hungry for?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk smiled when John laughed, despite the fact that he actually did think Miku fit her pretty well. He should have known that John already had an idea for a name. But why that one? Dirk got in the car and buckled his seatbelt, putting the beanbag cat in the cupholder.</p><p>"I told you that I'm not hungry. But if my choice is mandatory, then I'll say that I could eat some soup." Dirk murmurs, deciding to leave Casey in his lap. "Why Casey?"</p><p> </p><p>John fastens his belt and, after checking that Dirk did the same, starts the car. "Oh man. Soup sounds good. You want like. Chain restaurant soup, or like a family diner kinda place? There's that one Teppanyaki place that has that <em>really fucking good</em> clear soup, but like. It's just well-flavored chicken broth really, so if you want something thicker we can go somewhere else."</p><p>He clears his throat and lifts a shoulder, not expecting to have been questioned. "It's from a movie."</p><p> </p><p>"No, that's okay. Teppanyaki is good." Dirk says idly, because that last half had earned much more of his attention. He looks over to John, leaning his temple against the headrest.</p><p>"Which movie? As far as I know, salamanders are critically underrepresented in cinema. Let alone one named Casey."</p><p> </p><p>"Are we gonna go there just to order a container of soup, or are we gonna sit in? Because I'm gonna have to ask them to use sesame oil instead. I guess the broth alone would be way cheaper though, huh." He spares a glance out of the corner of his eye when he feels Dirk turn to look at him, but otherwise keeps his gaze on the road.</p><p>Mainly for safe driving practices, but he also feels like he might be made fun of, if Dirk was a lot like his younger brother. "Con Air."</p><p> </p><p>"Do you really want to bring a barely closed container of boiling hot miso into your car?" Dirk asks, in favor of answering directly. In retrospect, a <em>'Let's sit in.'</em> would have done the job just as well. He's reminded in that moment, as he is almost always, that he probably needed to stop acting like such a dick all the time.</p><p>Especially right now. Maybe clowning on John when he's potentially saying something personally meaningful to him wasn't the move. Instead, he just says:</p><p>"The Nic Cage movie, right?"</p><p> </p><p>"Aha, fair point. Okay, followup question: do you wanna pay extra for the show or just get the food? Bonus of the latter, we might get to see someone <em>else</em> get the show from across the room for free. Unless you specifically want the person to like. Flip shrimp at you or whatever."</p><p>He knows his face colors at the question, but John can't help the excited little glance he shoots over. "Yeah! Have you seen it?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk shrugs a shoulder, his fingers idly petting over Casey's head in his lap. It really was a soft toy. When he looked back up to John, he could see a blush tinting his face. He looked really excited over this, and it made Dirk feel a little twinge in his chest.</p><p>"...I'm good with just getting food. I haven't seen the movie, though."</p><p> </p><p>He's still bracing himself for the ribbing, but it never comes. "Okay, sure. Any idea what you're gonna order yet?" They still had a few minutes before they'd reach his apartment, and John drums his fingers on the wheel, looking for some sort of conversation topic that isn't just Nic Cage now.</p><p>"We can watch it sometime if you want."</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, Dirk doesn't get that memo, and bypasses John's first question completely. He had a vague idea of what he wanted - though he wondered if John would laugh at him for ordering sashimi and soup at a place that was all about <em>cooking</em> your food right in front of you. Or maybe he would scold him for not eating more, again.</p><p>"Tell me about it. The list of things I know about that particular piece of Nic Cage's filmography stops at the title, and it seems like you're really into it."</p><p> </p><p>It is the wrong thing to request. John lights up, and the next fifteen minutes are filled with his talking, non stop, about the entirety of the movie, as dramatic a retelling as possible with his hands on the wheel and eyes on the road when the car is in motion. At every red light or stop sign, John turns full-body in his seat to gesticulate wildly, occasionally reaching out to pet the salamander.</p><p>It's as they pull into the parking garage, timed well enough you might think it was rehearsed, that John finishes his summary.</p><p>"-And then Trisha Yearwood kicks in <em>right</em> as he sees his wife for the first time in <em>eight years</em>, Dirk, and he calls her <em>Hummingbird</em> and then he sees his daughter for the very first time. She's so shy and nervous and it's <em>heartbreaking</em> and he holds out the toy and says, 'It's a little dirty,' and she takes it and they all hug and start crying as the music swells and it's such a fitting song, I can never watch it without tearing up-"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk had been able to keep it together pretty well. But somewhere around halfway through, he felt himself smiling, and couldn't get it off his face. He'd been listening patiently without interrupting, staying pretty silent regardless to watch John gesticulate as wildly as he could while actively driving a car. He was getting so worked up about this. It was easy to forget that John was Dave's best friend at times, but definitely not right now. It made Dirk feel a fondness that even he couldn't ignore.</p><p>He laughs a bit, not unkindly, when John starts to draw to a close about the movie. "Jesus christ, Egbert. That's some of the cheesiest shit I've ever heard."</p><p> </p><p>Catching the occasional smile on Dirk's face as he relays the entire movie, scene by scene, is the only thing stopping him from feeling self-conscious when he's finished. It doesn't stop him from maintaining that flush of color, though.</p><p>"It's <em>such</em> a good movie! Just wait, I bet it could squeeze some tears even out of you."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sure the sight of Nicolas Cage's constantly memeworthy face would be more than enough to bring me to tears, yes."</p><p>Dirk quips, taking off his seatbelt now that the car was stopped, but not moving to get out just yet. In retrospect, he probably didn't need to go in, if John was just grabbing his epipen. But now he felt too weird putting it back on. He meets John's eyes when he glances over, quirking a brow at him.</p><p>"If you're that passionate about it, which you obviously fucking are, I'll agree it with you. As long as you give me permission to critique."</p><p> </p><p>John clicks his tongue not once, but twice at the slight dig and the knowledge that Dirk might potentially badmouth the film. He scowls, but eventually concedes. "...Fine. But only if the criticism is called for." His eyes dart down when he realizes Dirk unbuckled, and he almost points out that it'll only be a few minutes at most. But if Dirk wanted to head in with him, that was cool.</p><p>"I wonder if I should leave Casey here. The potential of spilling food on her is kinda sucky."</p><p> </p><p>"Of course. You think I would shit on a movie just to fuck with you? Please."</p><p>Dirk shifts in his seat, but doesn't offer the toy to John, or rebuckle himself. He knew it was sort of stupid to roll with this instead of just staying in the car, but Dirk's pride was a fragile, ridiculous thing. "We can just put her inside. I'll walk with you."</p><p> </p><p>"I mean, how should I know?! I don't kn- ... I- you're a mystery, dude!" His lips twist up into a smile as he holds his hand out for the salamander but it never comes. So he rolls his eyes and steps out of the car. "Kind of unnecessary but whatever." He kind of likes that Dirk isn't giving her up, but he isn't sure why.</p><p>He jogs forward to open the door before even checking if Dirk is behind him, and when he peers into the hall he spots his neighbor coming out of his apartment. John waves and suddenly remembers his plans for later. His lips pull up into a sneaky little smirk, and the man, after spotting him and almost lifting his hand to wave back, notices the expression and promptly looks uncomfortable. He draws nearer and notices Dirk as well, and that nervousness grows; John was a handful on his own, but the last (and only) time he saw these two together, they had a lot of <em>weird energy</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk chuckled quietly, amused at John's flustered response. That fondness in his chest didn't seem to be going anywhere. He gets out of the car with Casey in tow, tucked carefully under his arm as he shuts the door. He was going out of his way to be stupidly careful with her, but it was all for show.</p><p>Dirk saw John's neighbor before he saw him, stepping into the hall right after John. The first thing he noticed was that he sort of looked like he was about to bolt, inexplicably uncomfortable. Well, maybe it wasn't THAT inexplicable. Dirk had, after all, come to refer to him mentally as <em>Neigh For Me Daddy</em> guy.</p><p>The second thing he noticed was that the guy was fucking <em>ripped.</em> Dirk had a moment to shame himself for his pitifully and constantly gay first impressions (<em>What a stereotype.</em>), but in all fairness, he wasn't actually checking him out in that way. It was a respect thing. All for the gains.</p><p>(And maybe some of his wires were crossed, and there was a brief but palpable sexual tension that came with spotting a dude that could probably give him a run for his money in a strife. <em>Brief.</em>)</p><p>The third thing he noticed was that weird little smirk on John's face. Was that why the guy looked so nervous? What was that all about? Dirk schools his poker face as they approach him, and speaks up when John doesn't.</p><p>"'Sup."</p><p> </p><p>The greeting seems to spur the both of them into action, and John laughs, apologizes, and presses himself into the door to clear the path for his neighbor. "Oh hey, sorry!" He never loses that little light of mischief in his eyes.</p><p>A muscle spasms in the other man's jaw, and he looks between the two of them from behind his shades, visible to John because of just how tall the fucker is, and just how short John is - he can catch the movement as he nears from beneath the glasses, with his back rigid, head high in stuffy posture. He looks dubious at best, and his discomfort is clearly warring with the instinct to be properly polite.</p><p>The latter wins out, but <em>polite</em> might be a bit of an overstatement.</p><p>
  <em>"Hi."</em>
</p><p>He doesn't move any nearer, so there's this weird little standoff in the doorway. It makes John laugh, which he promptly tries to cover up with a throat-clear. "Uh, hey, anyway. Let me know when you get back, there's something I wanna ask."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk glances between the two of them, interest piqued, before he steps out of the way so John's neighbor could pass. Maybe they were friends after all? Dirk could have sworn that John told him they didn't talk very much. Did that change?</p><p>He doesn't say anything else, but his eyes were locked on the guy again, waiting for his response as he holds Casey to his chest.</p><p> </p><p>John slides out of he way so that instead of leaning back against the door, he's holding it open with one hand. He smiles, as charming as he can, which only makes the bigger guy fidget more. He mutters a <em>"Thank you,"</em> before slipping out into the parking garage. When he's clear, he turns back around to address John once again.</p><p><em>"I'll be out until the evening,"</em> to which John replies, "That's cool!" He continues to hold the door open, this time for Dirk, as his neighbor lingers, waiting to see just what they're playing at.</p><p> </p><p>What was <em>that?</em> Dirk frowned subtly, his eyes leaving John's neighbor to flit over to John. The grin on his face, and the fidgety response it gets made Dirk feel like he was missing some hidden context. He might have been jumping to conclusions, but why else would he look so nervous? He felt weirdly affronted that John hadn't mentioned anything about this, and tried not to think about the fact that it felt like jealousy.</p><p>Dirk didn't pass through the door John held for him just yet, standing coolly beside him with his eyes back on the neighbor.</p><p>"You didn't tell me you had a date tonight, John."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Next part of the not-date. I'm adding the last bit from mobile again so mistakes are likely. But I hope to pop in to the library regularly now so I'll try to get back on updating again. (Unless anyone wants to donate to help me get a computer)</p><p>Boy it's been so long since I've worked on this on ao3 that I'm forgetting how I typically do things. I think I'll break off the story soon and start like... a new work in the collection or something because I kinda wanna lose the heavy tags since it'll never happen again in the story. (I'll still tag for mentions of past abuse stuff of course, but I feel like people might see those tags and expect it to be an ongoing theme or something.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John is just about to make a face, questioning why Dirk hasn't come inside just yet, but the expression twists into something else as he stares between the other two. It looks a little hurt, just for a moment, while it looked like Dirk was staring at his neighbor, but he pulls it into a scandalized laugh just as the taller man recoils and turns on his heel.</p><p><em>"Absolutely not-"</em> he mutters, tongue curling around the words as he walks away from them. John holds up the laughter for a few moments before tugging at his hair almost anxiously.</p><p>"Damn, I feel like I should be offended or something." He darts a hand out, smacking Dirk on the upper arm. "What the hell, man! Now it'll take ages for him to relax enough again to talk to me."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's brows furrow briefly in confusion before he schools his expression, frowning at John. He lingers outside the door for a moment longer before brushing past John to step into the hallway. He felt his face coloring just slightly in embarrassment - how could he have called that wrong? Christ, why was he even policing John if he was going to date the guy in the first place? He felt like a grade-A dumbass.</p><p>"What?" He mutters, almost indignantly. "You looked like you were into him, and he was standing there looking like the dictionary depiction of bashful. What was I supposed to think?"</p><p> </p><p>John follows a little more slowly behind, trying to reign in all the weird shit he was feeling. He can't place any of it, other than the fact that it was decidedly negative. Which is why his voice comes out just a bit harsher than he'd like as he turns to the door, key in hand.</p><p>"I already fucking told you I wasn't into him."</p><p>The tone makes him wince, and he shoves the door open, walking in without looking back as he grabs the epipen he kept in a kitchen drawer.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk is briefly taken aback when John snaps at him, blinking owlishly behind his shades.</p><p>He felt a twinge of anger and starts to open his mouth to throw a rebuttal back at John, that that wasn't what it looked like to him, but found himself falling short. He doesn't watch John as he opens the door, just following after him with his eyes somewhere on the far wall.</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p> </p><p>John flinches at the apology, and for a few seconds he tries to hold into his frustration. He wants to demand why Dirk wants to know so badly, but where would that get anyone? It was annoying that he's doing all this so he can do something nice for his friend, but said friend keeps jumping to conclusions and making accusations and- it didn't matter.</p><p>"Thanks. It doesn't matter anyway though, right?" They gave it a shot and it flopped, so it didn't matter that Dirk thought he was interested in his neighbor when he wasn't. It didn't make a difference either way. Aside from making Equius not want to talk to him after being embarrassed, but he could work with that.</p><p>"Come on, let's go get your soup." He wiggles the epipen at him before tucking it into his back pocket.</p><p> </p><p>"It obviously does, if it pissed you off that much." Dirk says, walking over to put Casey on the couch. Once she was out of his hands, he put them in his pockets. He didn't make for the door again just yet though.</p><p>He might have lacked social tact, but he wasn't an idiot. It was obvious in John's clipped tone that something was still bothering him.</p><p> </p><p>Well, he doesn't have an excuse for <em>that</em>. Dirk caught him there. "My point was, it doesn't really change anything." There weren't any safe ways he could talk about this, especially after they literally just made up after a fight. John walks to the door, holding it open even though Dirk wasn't coming over.</p><p>"And I wasn't pissed."</p><p> </p><p>"What's wrong with you, then?"</p><p>Dirk doesn't move, stubbornly leaning against the back of the couch. He was <em>not</em> about to wreck another day with John because of his own bullshit attitude. Especially not when he knew something was up.</p><p> </p><p>John scoffs, but it's more of a joking one than actual affront. "Damn. <em>Rude</em>. I was just annoyed. I said he wasn't my type, then you had to go and make things weird after I started smoothing them out he <em>last</em> time you made things weird."</p><p>He wiggles the door as if to ask why he wasn't coming. "Any other questions? Or are we good to get some actual food in our bellies that isn't over-expensive movie food?"</p><p> </p><p>"To be fair, you were laughing the first time." </p><p>Dirk hesitates for a moment longer before pushing off the couch, seemingly satisfied with that answer. As satisfied as he could be, anyway. He walks to the door, passing through the threshold as John holds it open.</p><p>"No more questions. I was just checking."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah well, to be fair, I didn't expect I'd start talking to the guy." Dirk passes him and John rolls his eyes, unable to stop himself from blurting out "Why did you want to know, anyway?"</p><p>He regrets it immediately and busies himself with locking the door as a distraction. He was getting <em>stupid</em> again.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk looked back to John, but he was busy locking the door, and didn't return it. Dirk was silent for a moment, pursing his lips. He felt a slight discomfort at being questioned, but was still shrugging his shoulder absently.</p><p><em>I was just curious</em> is what Dirk means to say. But it isn't what comes out.</p><p>"I don't know him. What if he hurt you?"</p><p> </p><p>Of all the answers Dirk could have given, that was not on the list. And that frustration and discomfort from earlier vanishes with just how charmed John is feeling. "... Well I mean, first off, I can handle myself thank-you-very-much. Even against someone as big as him. Second, uh. Thank you. But you don't have anything to worry about with him. He's just really awkward."</p><p>John darts forward to yank open the door, peering into the parking garage to make sure he was gone before letting Dirk go first. "I mean the worst I think he can do is like. Be <em>super</em> condescending and sometimes make some iffy comments, but he kinda talks like a rich-bitch sometimes so it's probably his family talking."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk passes John when he lets him out into the parking garage, starting for John's car again. He slows up to wait for him to catch up, though.</p><p>"I'm not saying you can't handle yourself, or that he's necessarily a bad guy. Though, the uppity attitude certainly wouldn't <em>improve</em> my opinion. I'm just looking out for you, man."</p><p> </p><p>"Mmh." John eyes him as he moves closer, but doesn't say anything else until they're both back in the car. Once he has his belt latched, he bites his lip before squinting at Dirk.</p><p>"You sure that's it? Cause seriously, if you're into him you don't have to worry about me. He's all yours."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>No.</em> Fuck. He's objectively pretty hot, yeah, but I'm not interested." Dirk huffs a slight laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, buckling his seatbelt. He wonders how the guy would feel if he knew he was inciting this much attention, even in their private conversations. Twice, at that.</p><p>"I doubt he's even gay, based on that reaction."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah? I dunno, I thought you guys might hit it off." John can't keep a little smile off his face as he pulls out of the garage. Today was weird.</p><p>"I don't think he's like... shown interest in anyone outright that I've seen, but he's pretty easy to fluster. Pretty sure he just isn't into <em>me</em>. I can be pretty annoying when I want to be."</p><p> </p><p>"I know you can." Dirk flatly agrees, but he's mirroring the small smile John had on his face.</p><p>"You said he reminded you of me, before. No offense to him, but even I'm not narcissistic enough to fucking date someone just like me."</p><p> </p><p>John cackles, and in true asshole form says, "Ooh, you coulda fooled me, dude." There's a moment where he worries that maybe it's too soon for ribbing, but Dirk said he missed him, and he clearly meant the old him. So ribbing just came with the territory.</p><p>"Can you look up the directions? I only remember that it's the opposite direction from the theater. And check the hours too, because I know they close for their lunch."</p><p> </p><p>"Alright, you caught me. I'm just aching to have his big sweaty hands all over me." Dirk deadpans, taking John's teasing like a champ. It already felt a lot more natural.</p><p>He took out his phone from his pocket, tapping out the name of the restaurant. Once he'd pulled up the GPS, he props his phone on the dash so John could see it.</p><p>"It opened back an hour ago. We should be fine."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh no, <em>weird</em>. Way to turn it back on me, dude." John darts a glance at the phone and mentally calculates the route to the next couple streets it listed. "Damn, good timing! We're pretty lucky today. Maybe it's payback for the bad movie."</p><p>He takes the next left, making sure it was correct, before thinking back to the conversation. It really might not be in his best interest of his neighbor didn't like Dirk, because it might make his chances less optimal when he asks for the favor later on. His whole argument was supposed to make the big guy feel a kinship for Dirk, but now he'd have to work even harder to convince him.</p><p>"... You know, he's not so bad."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk blinked. Admittedly, he thought they'd moved on from the subject. It was a little weird that John insisted on driving this particular point - maybe he actually was friends with him after all.</p><p>"Your neighbor? I don't see why he wouldn't be." Dirk admits. "Aside from the fact that he's apparently got some similarities to me."</p><p> </p><p>"You were worried he'd hurt me, Dirk. And trust me, if he was the kind of guy to hurt someone, with how much of a dumbass I've been around him, he'd have done it a while ago. And-"</p><p>He pauses to pay close attention at the next turn before taking a moment to smile at him. "Those are his best qualities."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was preparing to explain his reasoning - that if he was anything like him, he was most definitely an asshole, but the explanation died in his throat. He felt himself reddening, his eyes leaving John in favor of staring down at his lap awkwardly.</p><p>"I..."</p><p>Fuck. What was he supposed to say to <em>that.</em></p><p>It was a few more seconds of silence before Dirk looked out the window, bringing a hand to his face casually, like he wasn't trying to hide a furious blush.</p><p>"..."</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully for Dirk, John couldn't keep looking for very long - moving car and all - but the lack of a response was a little worrying. John laughs nervously as he stares out through the windshield, eagerly scanning for the street they'd need to turn onto next.</p><p>"Uh. Sorry if that was lame. We're almost there."</p><p> </p><p>"It was definitely lame. You probably shouldn't say it again. Ever." Dirk mutters in his embarrassment, his words slightly muffled by his hand as it smushed his cheek. The blush didn't seem to be going anywhere though.</p><p>Luckily, John didn't seem to notice. He needed to pull his shit together before he did.</p><p> </p><p>Well, okay, that made him feel better. Dirk wasn't uncomfortable if he was talking like that, right? "Say what? That I like a lot of things about you? Too late, man, I'm pretty sure that's just gonna be something you'll have to get used to. Sorry."</p><p>He spots the sign for the grill, and moves into the proper lane so he can pull into the parking lot. "I like you, Dirk. You just have to deal with that."</p><p> </p><p>"Don't say you're sorry. You're not. You take pleasure from getting sappy on me, Egbert." Dirk felt a little less like he was about to catch on fire, so he dropped his hand from his face to settle in his lap.</p><p>He was desperate for a subject change. "We're here. This was a much better gamble than Mcdonald's."</p><p> </p><p>"Mmh, maybe." Once he's parked, he can finally look over at Dirk. And there's still a fair bit of color in his face so John takes this as a Big Win. He smiles and pats his friend's shoulder before unbuckling his belt.</p><p>"Sure. They still probably use peanut oil, but I'm sure they'd be more careful than underpaid and overworked teenagers. You gonna get mochi afterward?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk swats his hand away stubbornly, unbuckling himself now that they were parked. It wasn't overly aggressive, but he knew for a fact that John had spotted his blush by now.</p><p>"Depends. Do they have good mochi here, and not the chewy shit? I've never been."</p><p> </p><p>He laughs a little as he checks his pockets, making sure he has everything; epipen, keys, wallet, phone... and once he thinks he's set, John climbs out of the car. "I dunno, I don't really have a lot to compare it with. I've been here twice and never had mochi otherwise. And honestly I wasn't really here for the food. The broth was the only thing that stood out to me, other than the show."</p><p>Speaking of, he whips out his phone. It was criminal <em>not</em> to get a couple pictures of the flame pillar or the flinging knives, even if they weren't going to be the target audience. He holds the button to turn the phone back on as he heads toward the entrance, only to be surprised by the immediate ping notifying him of a new message.</p><p>When he spots the contact name, his gut churns; he'd forgotten the message he sent Dave. John can't bring himself to tap the name, frozen on the sidewalk and staring at the screen before he finally pulls himself together, opening the chat.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll give it a shot. But I'll warn you that I have high standards for mochi. If it's trash, you can have it. I can't imagine I'll eat much of it anyway, if they have my usual order."</p><p>Dirk falls into step at John's side as he talks, glancing up at the sign of the restaurant. He was wondering idly why he'd never been before - maybe it was new? - when he noticed John wasn't walking beside him anymore. Dirk turned back, only to see John staring at his phone, looking... well, scared shitless, honestly.</p><p>"John?"</p><p>The message from Dave wasn't brief, but it wasn't much of a monologue, either.</p><p>'<em>i dont think youre a monster </em></p><p>
  <em>i think youre an asshole </em>
</p><p>
  <em>but i fucking hope youre proving otherwise to dirk </em>
</p><p>
  <em>it seems like it i guess </em>
</p><p>
  <em>he really likes you for whatever reason </em>
</p><p>
  <em>just </em>
</p><p>
  <em>dont make me regret trying to trust you again egbert </em>
</p><p>
  <em>you did a fucked up thing to my brother and i feel like an idiot for giving you another chance here </em>
</p><p>
  <em>but if you hurt him again ill kick your beaver teeth in no cap </em>
</p><p><em>obviously</em>'</p><p> </p><p>Well. What could he say to that? John continues to stare at the screen; it wasn't the worst case scenario he expected, but it still made it clear that they probably wouldn't ever have the same friendship again. Dave would most likely always wonder if he'd do something terrible again, even if he somehow manages to forgive him. It kind of felt like a closed door now, and John is so focused on the words that he doesn't hear Dirk call out.</p><p>He closes the message and clicks the screen off, still distracted, when he notices Dirk a few paces ahead looking back at him. He pulls a smile onto his face, shaking out of it. "Yeah, sorry. What were you saying? Something about chewy mochi?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk blinks at him, frowning slightly at that. Sure, John was smiling now, but he'd looked seriously messed up over something less than twenty seconds before. It was suspicious, and Dirk was immediately concerned. His brows furrowed.</p><p>"What's wrong?"</p><p> </p><p>The phone is tucked into a back pocket, and John's hands into each of the front. "Nothing. Nothing new anyway. Did you get a good look inside yet? See how busy it is?"</p><p>He walks closer, keeping some space between them as he tries to peer into the darkened glass of the door. </p><p> </p><p>Dirk folds his arms over his chest, staring at John flatly from behind his shades. He didn't have the answer to John's question, even if that was what he was concerned about right now. John had all of his attention.</p><p>"John. What is it? You looked freaked out."</p><p> </p><p>"It wasn't anything, I swear." He's about to double down on this when John wonders what the point would be. Why would he want to keep it from Dirk? It wasn't anything to worry about, and Dirk wouldn't believe that unless he told him.</p><p>"Just a text from Dave."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk seems visibly intrigued by that, his head tilting slightly as he studied John curiously.</p><p>"He texted you?"</p><p>Dirk instinctively pulled his phone from his pocket, just in case he'd somehow missed a text from Dave, and it was redirected through John instead. Nothing, though. Dave had purposefully reached out to him.</p><p>"What did he say?"</p><p> </p><p>He wonders if Dirk might have the wrong idea, might think that this was a good thing. "Yeah, you know. Just another shovel talk, after I said something." He lifts his shoulders and curves around Dirk, pushing into the entrance.</p><p>There's a small group, but it didn't look like the place was going to be packed, so John takes a seat in the waiting area as the greeter handles the rest of the people there before him.</p><p> </p><p>"Shovel talk?" </p><p>Dirk asks, following after John. It wasn't too late in the afternoon for a dinner rush luckily, but there was enough of a group to warrant Dirk joining John on a seat in front of the host stand.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, you know the term?" He doesn't really want to elaborate, because it was more than just a simple shovel talk, and he didn't want the rest of his time with Dirk today to be spent moping.</p><p> </p><p>"No, I don't. Was he shitty to you?" Dirk presses, still seeming concerned.</p><p>He knew Dave had just as much of a tendency to be protective of him as the other way around - that could have had something to do with it. Or, maybe Dirk was just being self-centered again.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh. I mean it's basically just a 'don't even think about hurting them' kinda talk." He opens his mouth, ready to make light of it, but figured he could just let Dirk see for himself. He leans toward him so he can slip the phone out of his pocket, bringing up the message again and making sure Dirk couldn't see the 'irredeemable monster' line that prompted the reply.</p><p> </p><p>Somehow, having mentally guessed that Dave had said something protective about him still didn't prepare Dirk for the embarrassment it caused. He didn't like Dave worrying about him - especially to this extent. Dirk felt his face warming a bit as he read the message Dave had sent John.</p><p><em>'he really likes you'</em> stood out more than it should have. Of course John knew that Dirk enjoyed his company, but seeing it written out so plainly still made him feel weird and sheepish, squirming a bit.</p><p>"...Sorry about him."</p><p> </p><p>John can't bring himself to look at Dirk as he reads the message, so they both just stare at the little screen until he finishes. He shrugs again, lifting a shoulder as he tucks the phone back in his pocket. "He has every right to be pissed, don't worry about it. Besides, it's better than I expected anyway!"</p><p>The group of people at the podium move on, and the greeter turns toward them expectantly, so John smiles and walks over. He places his own order, pointing out the allergy and the request for just the food, no show necessary, before glancing back at Dirk. "You made up your mind yet?"</p><p> </p><p>"I guess so." Dirk mutters. At least they could mutually agree this time that the subject was uncomfortable, and to drop it.</p><p>He simply nods to John's question when they get to the podium, ordering his planned sashimi platter and miso soup. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to finish all of it, but he tended to eat more when it was actually his favorite food.</p><p> </p><p>John waits until they're pointed to their table - near the back corner - before calling him out. As they settle and he takes in the moderately sized group across he room from them (maybe a birthday or family thing) he rests his chin in his fist.</p><p>"So. We came to a grill so you could get raw fish, huh?"</p><p> </p><p>There it was. Dirk almost laughed at having predicted it before they even set foot in the restaurant - but then again, it wasn't that much of a surprise, was it? He and John seemed to thrive off of teasing each other. Dirk settled in his seat across from John, leaning his elbows on the table.</p><p>"I knew you were going to say something about it. Let me live, John."</p><p> </p><p>"Mmh, I guess it's fair. Not many places serve it if you don't want the questionable deli counter stuff. But just to let you know, it's on you to finish it. I'm fine with sushi, but just plain strips of raw stuff isn't my thing. The texture is weird."</p><p>He turns his attention back to Dirk, mirroring his posture. "Wanna do anything dubious that might get us thrown out of here too?"</p><p> </p><p>"The fish is the entire point of sushi, Egbert. The fresher the fish, the richer the taste, the better the sushi." Dirk says, matter of factly. He might have been a bit of a poser when it came to Japanese culture, but he was still a snob about the food.</p><p>"So no, I'll pass. We can save the misdemeanors for our next d-" Dirk stutters slightly after the '<em>D</em>'. What the fuck? "...Day out."</p><p> </p><p>"But sushi has other stuff with it! More variety of flavor! Different textures! Sashimi is just... 'here, have this fish meat we didn't do anything to other than slice it.' It's lazy, Dirk. And feels weird in my mouth."</p><p>The words themselves don't really draw much attention - John acknowledged the dismissal and was already on his way to spouting out some ideas they could do to fuck with people, but then he notices the little break. The falter in Dirk's normally smooth cadence, and as he snaps back into focus, brain latching on to the oddity, he tries to fill in what the cause might have been.</p><p>"... Did you wanna come here often? Because it's an okay place but really, more than a couple times a month might start getting pricy dude."</p><p> </p><p>Thank fucking god John had misinterpreted that stutter somehow. Dirk didn't know why the word <em>date</em> had suddenly leapt onto the tip of his tongue, but it was enough to be a little alarming. This <em>wasn't</em> a date. Dirk didn't even <em>do</em> dates.</p><p>Or, he didn't. Not until John, at least.</p><p>Was that what this was? Did hanging out with John like this flip some sort of dumbass switch in his brain, and bring him mentally back to their first date? It wasn't completely unlikely. They hadn't spent much time together without some sort of issue popping up in... a while. Even so, it shouldn't automatically put Dirk into date mode. Their friendship is platonic, and sort of always had been, thanks to his own evasion of a second date. Feelings don't play a part.</p><p>Fuck, they <em>don't</em> play a part, do they?</p><p>Dirk feels as if he's spent too long just staring at John, and shoves those confused, twisted feelings he's getting in the pit of his stomach away to dissect later.</p><p>"...I'm just saying that you need to broaden your horizons. Sashimi has inherent value, and you should try appreciating it, even if it isn't at this particular restaurant."</p><p> </p><p>There's a lingering silence now, and John is even more suspicious. He's sure it's just his imagination, or some hopeful little chunk of his brain making him think Dirk meant <em>something else</em>, but he's not going to make a big deal about it.</p><p>So he licks his lips, ignores the warmth starting to flood his face and points dramatically. "Don't try and make this about me, dude. You're responsible for eating all your fish meat!"</p><p> </p><p>"I'll take that responsibility. Mostly. Though, I do want to see you try it. One bite." Dirk bargains, feeling a little less of that panicked dread with every second further away he gets from that almost slip up.</p><p>"Unless you're scared, that is."</p><p> </p><p>"I've had sushi already and the texture of the fish was the worst part! Why would I eat <em>just</em> that now? You just want me as your personal garbage disposal and frankly I'm not having it anymore. Sure, I can eat a lot, but I have <em>standards,</em> Strider!"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was doing his best to hold a straight face, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't amused by John's outburst, and fighting a smile.</p><p>"It's not garbage, dude. You're being dramatic. If I was trying to pawn it off on you, I wouldn't have just offered you a singular bite in the efforts of trying to educate your shitty palette."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't need to eat a chunk of raw meat when I've already had it with other stuff before to know I don't like it, <em>dad</em>." John snorts and sits back in his seat, arms bent across his chest. He taps his fingertips on his forearms for a second before biting the bullet.</p><p>"... Were you gonna say something else earlier?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt his amusement slowly start to ebb away with that question, the discomfort creeping back in. He could always play dumb, and pretend that he didn't know what John meant. Which, in all fairness, maybe he didn't. Maybe John didn't even catch his stutter before, and he was referring to something else. Right?</p><p>"...When?"</p><p> </p><p>He keeps his eyes on the table, face darkening more and more with his flush as the silence stretched on, and John regretted asking. It was dumb. "Nothing, never mind." He hopes in vain that their food would arrive to save them from this moment, but instead the chef comes out to perform for the group. Good enough.</p><p>"You think it'd be creepy to film them? It might be funny if we just walked over and sat down with the group like we belonged there, right?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until the relief washed over him the second John changed the subject. He had somehow managed to avoid blushing very much, but John wasn't so lucky. Dirk might have teased him over it, if the situation weren't one he was desperate to move past.</p><p>"...If you're into public embarrassment, sure. Not quite my style."</p><p> </p><p>"No? Right, you just like humiliating me in front of a couple people, I forgot." He wonders if Dirk would follow if he tried, but he felt like it'd be more likely the jerk would sit and watch and give him some sarcastic little wave as he was getting thrown out.</p><p>"Fine. Next time, then. Or maybe closer to the end of the <em>date</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was already prepared to snark right back to John, but his jaw went slack. It was maybe five seconds before his face was completely aflame, and he was sitting back in his seat looking almost petulant. Though, obviously, it wasn't anything more than some intense fucking embarrassment, because apparently John <em>was</em> onto him this whole time, and just decided to let him flounder around the issue like an oblivious idiot. He fails to resist the urge to cross his arms, staring intently at a light fixture on the other side of the room.</p><p>"I didn't <em>say</em> that." He insists.</p><p> </p><p>The reaction is promising, but John is still a little nervous that maybe this isn't a good topic to joke about. Considering Dirk's reactions the last time he brought up dates, he worries he'll get avoided for a week again. So as fun as it is to see him get all flustered, he pulls back.</p><p>"Uh huh. Did you name your prize yet? Or are you just gonna throw it out?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk blinks, not actually expecting the subject change. His face was still red as he shifted slightly in his seat, taking a second or two to switch gears now that John was laying off again. He was still guarded, though. He needed to watch what he said, lest he get verbally dunked on.</p><p>"The cat/squirrel beanbag? If it doesn't start spilling pellets within the next few hours, I might keep it. I was considering giving it to Roxy. Or throwing it off the roof of my apartment building. Whichever opportunity presents itself first."</p><p> </p><p>"Aw. Roxy would love it. But Mutie might tear into it and I don't know if silica beads are that safe for animals. Assuming that's what's inside. Smashing it open sounds fun but also kinda sad. All that work to get it, I mean."</p><p> </p><p>"The 'work' was for Casey, if you consider deciphering the programming of a claw machine to be work. Beanbag was just a byproduct of success." Dirk corrects. "Technically speaking, from that perspective they're both yours. I was winning prizes for you, not me."</p><p> </p><p>John's mouth ticks up, the remnants of his blush starting to come back as he stares at the table between them. "You're uh. Not really helping your case here, dude. But thanks."</p><p>Their food arrives, or at least the soup does, and John immediately dives into it. "These spoons are so weird but god, I love them."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt himself smile a bit, raising a brow when he spotted a bit of a blush rise on John's face. It was a nice change of pace, considering John had just embarrassed the shit out of him a few seconds prior.</p><p>He didn't leap on his soup quite as visibly enthusiastic as John had, but nonetheless, he didn't waste much time digging in. He takes a sip from the spoon before speaking up. "They're called <em>chirirenge</em>. <em>Renge</em>, colloquially."</p><p> </p><p>John knows he'd normally jump at the chance to make fun of Dirk for something like this, but... he kind of doesn't want to? It makes no sense. He wouldn't have said anything more insulting than a 'nerd' or 'weeb', and it isn't like he's second-guessing his habit of teasing, but for some reason he just kind of wants to enjoy it.</p><p>He still makes a little face though, to let Dirk know exactly what he's thinking.</p><p>"So did I accidentally hit the jackpot with you or something by suggesting this place?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk glances up at him briefly before looking back down at his miso, offering a secret little smile into the <em>renge</em> before it slips back into practiced stoicism. He had a feeling John saw anyway, so it didn't really matter much.</p><p>"Something like that."</p><p> </p><p>He has to tilt his head to get a better look at that little smile before it slips away, but it's fine, definitely worth it. "Wish I could take credit for it, but honestly? You said you wanted soup, and the only two places I knew of that had soup I liked was this, and Red Robin's chili. I don't think either of them really even count as soup."</p><p>He scoops one of the little tempura crunch clumps into his mouth and thinks for a moment. "Would you classify chili as a soup, stew, or something else entirely?" Absolutely riveting table chatter, John.</p><p> </p><p>"Neither. If anything, it's a thick sauce." Dirk idly swirls the soup around in his bowl, not wanting to ruin his appetite for sashimi.</p><p>"Not in the traditional sense. Chili isn't in the ketchup category, but it's a sauce in the same way that meat sauce on spaghetti is a sauce." The word sauce was starting to roll on his tongue a bit, like he'd said it too many times.</p><p> </p><p>"That gives the impression that it's weird to eat on its own! Maybe it's just in its own category. Chunky soup." John has no misgivings - not only is he a Big Boy with a Big Appetite, but this was the main reason he came anyway. The steak and chicken combo was just to fill whatever space was left.</p><p>If he felt less weird about it, he'd drink straight from the bowl, but the broth is gone within minutes.</p><p>"You should name the squirrel anyway."</p><p> </p><p>"I did name it." Dirk says, squishing a piece of tofu against the side of his bowl. He was usually pretty good at suppressing his appetite, and he had to admit that he was getting eager for his fish - though, maybe not as eager as John was to eat. He should have insisted they get food earlier. Or, maybe Dirk was just a slow eater. He couldn't be sure.</p><p>"Beanbag."</p><p> </p><p>John rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat so he can stretch his legs out in front of himself beneath the table. "Oh nooo... I guess it's your call, but damn. That's a terrible name." He nudges his empty bowl to the side and watches the other group for a moment.</p><p>"There's a place that serves you food during a movie. Restaurant/theater combo." Probably would have condensed their outing nicely, but probably not as enjoyable.</p><p> </p><p>"It's not a terrible name. It's descriptive and succinct. What more could you ask for in a name for a beanbag?" Dirk states plainly, and actually sincerely. He had a tendency to be no nonsense about particularly random things.</p><p>"I've never heard of it. Maybe we should have gone there, if you were hungry. I feel shitty for not insisting that we eat first."</p><p> </p><p>"It lacks character! That's like naming you 'Nerd' or me 'Hunk'." He can't <em>quite</em> keep a straight face with that one, but boy does he try. After a few strangled giggles he tries again. "If a name is just a descriptor, then it's basically just a label."</p><p>His feet tap against some of the wooden supports of the table. "Hmm. Nah. Then we'd have missed out on a lot of the fun, I think. And don't worry about it. It was pretty unplanned. Didn't know you were capable of spontaneity." He remembers jumping the fence, and the end of their golf game. "... That's a lie, sorry."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk quirks a brow at him, stifling a smile at John's giggling. Dirk would never admit it, but it was incredibly endearing that he laughed at his own jokes, as lame as they were. "Your name is still 'John the Hunk' in my phone, you know. Really doesn't help your argument."</p><p>Dirk sits back in his seat, eyeing John from across the table. "You trying to imply I'm not fun, Egbert?"</p><p> </p><p>The laugh chokes off into something more startled, and now he doubly regrets saying something so stupid. "Holy shit, you were supposed to change that!" He'd completely forgotten about that dumbass decision (especially considering it was piggybacking on a much more extreme dumbass decision) even though he can remember it being brought up once before.</p><p>"Ugh, <em>god</em>." Dirk leans back, and he deliberately tries to find one of his legs to bump against in frustration. "I'm flat out saying that if we went to a place like that, half of the fun stuff we've done wouldn't have happened." Plus, it might have made their time together go by more quickly, but that felt like something dumb to admit.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt himself smirk and leaned forward, putting his elbow on the table for an excuse to bring his hand up and partially cover his mouth. "Are you kidding me? I cherish that shit like a national treasure. It's <em>never</em> getting changed, bro."</p><p>He shifts slightly in his seat to bump John's leg right back. "Careful. If you keep talking like that, you might convince me that you genuinely enjoy having me around."</p><p>He was joking. Mostly.</p><p> </p><p>John fights against saying something for a few seconds, probably visibly, but he manages to tamp down like three separate urges, scoffing instead. "Dick." He makes a point to set Dirk's name to that very word <em>just</em> for that.</p><p>When he's finished (and thankfully, Dave's message being momentarily on the screen didn't hit that hard this time) John sighs and bumps him a little more forcefully before pulling his feet back.</p><p>He was an adult, dammit, no footsie.</p><p>"What gave you that impression? It's not like I talk to you all the time and ask to do things together or anything."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk huffs a slight laugh through his nose, searching John's face for a moment when he takes out his phone and does...something. He didn't know what, and with that brief moment he was able to just look at him, Dirk realized how far he'd been leaning forward in his seat. He sat back a bit, to look a little less like an eager puppy hanging on John's every word.</p><p>"No. You definitely don't. I'm wholly rejected and forgotten. It's a tragedy, really. You'll catch me panhandling for attention every free second of my time without you, in a fruitless attempt to fill the void."</p><p> </p><p>"Damn, layin' it on a little thick, dude." John laughs quietly, and his mouth works to try and say something, continue the joke, but everything he can think of just sounds dumb. Offering to text him once an hour? Apologizing for being so neglectful? Making some dumb reference to Dirk's void? All stupid.</p><p>... That last one had some promise, but John's not about to be a pervert.</p><p>Instead of the joke he wants to make, John accidentally takes a sincere approach. "But you know, whenever I'm free, I'd be glad to hang out."</p><p> </p><p>John's sincerity shot through Dirk's attempt at joking around point blank. Typically, it might have just been a little frustrating to have his teasing fall flat. But the open affection made Dirk feel fond, even if the discomfort overpowered it by a wide margin.</p><p>Dirk glanced away, rubbing idly at the back of his neck. When he spoke up, it was just a step or two above a mumble.</p><p>"...I know, John."</p><p> </p><p>Maybe that <em>was</em> a dumb thing to say. There's some tension now, and while it isn't unpleasant, John kind of wants there not to be any. He spies a server walking from the back, arms loaded with plates, and right before they get to the table, he aims one little nudge at Dirk's leg, mumbling, "Only because I feel sorry for your void," before sitting up and thanking the approaching employee.</p><p>"We'd like to order mochi after this, too. What flavor are you thinking?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk glances up at John when he felt the nudge against his leg, and felt weirdly flattered that John was able to recognize his discomfort and play it off. It wrangled a smile out of him - a real one this time, however small it was it actually reached his eyes - but it was gone just as soon as it came, thanks to the waiter.</p><p>"Adzuki."</p><p> </p><p>Why did time with Dirk have to be such a coaster of weird, hard to understand emotion? Even after all this fucking time, John doesn't know what he wants. Dirk's made it clear he just wants to be friends, and John knows that! Respects it! And then when he thinks he doesn't have to worry about it anymore and he can give Dirk what he's comfortable with, there has to be that damn little smile that twists him all up again.</p><p>John orders peach for himself, ignoring the internal bullshit and having the good sense to wait until the employee is out of earshot before saying, "I have no idea what the fuck that is. Sounds like the bad guys from Naruto."</p><p> </p><p>"The ignorance of that mildly culturally insensitive comment aside, adzuki is a type of bean. Red bean, specifically. It's a popular mochi flavor in Japan." Dirk says, grabbing his chopsticks and snapping them. He rolls them between his hands to get rid of any splinters as he continues.</p><p>"That flavor is my control, when I try new mochi. I'll let you try it regardless."</p><p> </p><p>John at least has the courtesy to look a little guilty when he's called out, but his next statement probably undoes it. "Can't figure out why anyone would use beans in a dessert. ... Well, I guess we put corn syrup in everything, so maybe I can't argue. Not sure if I want to eat chewy bean ice cream though."</p><p>Unlike Dirk, John uses the fork provided to stir his protein a little into the rice before taking a bite. Again, in his opinion, they put more of a focus on the presentation than the food itself here, but it's still good. "Got any plans next week?"</p><p> </p><p>"You're making it sound weirder than it actually is. Just try it." Dirk levels his chopsticks before snagging a piece of sashimi and popping it in his mouth. He lets it sit on his tongue for a second or two - it was pretty decent quality.</p><p>"Do I ever have plans?"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't need any help making it sound weird! It's a bean! For dessert! Jesus, you're not even gonna dip it in soy sauce?" John makes a show of enjoying his <em>fully cooked</em> meat, chewy as it was, before shoveling some rice into his mouth.</p><p>"Cool. I don't have plans worked out yet, so I'll let you know what day I wanna do something."</p><p> </p><p>"No. That defeats the purpose of getting sashimi. I want to taste it, rather than smother it in liquified salt." Dirk pairs his next bite with some white rice from his own small bowl.</p><p>"Just keep me posted. My schedule is flexible, but I do still have work to get done to meet some deadlines by next week. Unless you planned to watch me hunch over my worktable for hours at a time."</p><p> </p><p>"It's raw fish. Why do you want to taste that?" He pushes his food around a little and glances away when the group oohs and aahs at some fancy knife slinging, but his attention returns to Dirk immediately. "Sounds like a good time to take a nap, actually."</p><p> </p><p>"Why don't you?" Dirk asks plainly. He brushes the topic aside, leaving it at that as he picks at his rice with the chopsticks. He could still eat more - maybe he was actually hungry - but his earlier theory about slow eating might have been true, now that he was more aware of it.</p><p>"You want to nap while I work? I'm not sure that counts as a hangout."</p><p> </p><p>"Thought we've already established I have shit taste, remember?" It doesn't look like Dirk is all that eager to eat more, and John hides a frown. He barely had anything at all, and this was kinda pushing the not-hungry thing to an extreme in his eyes.</p><p>"Still sounds nice." Instead of clarifying anything he might mean by that, he hunches forward to start eating a bit more pointedly. "I guess this means there's at least one kind of contest I could beat you in."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was quiet for a few moments as he gave the potential hangout some thought. While it objectively really didn't seem like much of a riveting time, that was... sort of what Dirk was into, most of the time. Sure, he had a bit of a rebellious streak, and he liked the adrenaline that came with, say, hopping a fence and trespassing on private property. But Dirk's natural habitat was a quiet room, with the click of his keyboard and the whirr of his electric fan.</p><p>Spending time with his friend without the weighted obligation of actual socialization sounded... nice. Really nice.</p><p>John was right.</p><p>"You've got me there. I'm completely incapable of finishing this bowl of rice by shoveling it down my gullet in under five minutes." Dirk quips sarcastically, falling for the bait hook, line, and sinker. "You just eat fast. I can finish my food."</p><p> </p><p>"Damn, thought that'd get you. Since when do you back down from a challenge?" John clicks his tongue, but hey, he gave it a shot. Maybe trying to force your friend to stuff himself to discomfort wasn't a good idea anyway. "But yeah, I'll let you know sometime next week if I can get it planned. Just keep a couple hours open for me if you can, okay?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not backing down from anything. I <em>can</em> do it." Dirk assures stubbornly, even though he really doesn't have to. He wouldn't put it past himself to accidentally give himself a complex that fools him into better eating habits out of spite. "But I doubt you want me to hurl in your car once we leave."</p><p>"Technically speaking, all hours can be open on my end. If you go the route of laying around while I work, that is." Was that pitch too obvious? Dirk didn't think so.</p><p> </p><p>"Uh huh. If you say so!" John has already given up on baiting Dirk into eating better (for now) in favor of parsing what he thinks is an invitation. "I mean, what I've got planned will mean heading somewhere. But was that an offer to just come over and lounge around whenever?"</p><p> </p><p>With that dismissal, Dirk knew that yeah, he was definitely going to try and prove John wrong just to make a point. Even if that involved doing something actually good for his health. He hated being told that he couldn't do something, after all.</p><p>At the question, Dirk shrugged a shoulder, as if he didn't just subtly invite John to do just that.</p><p>"I mean, yeah. I don't understand why it would be something you would enjoy doing, but I'm not shy about working with an audience."</p><p> </p><p>John laughs a little again, mixing a little more of his rice into his steak and chicken. "Okay so if I turn up at like three in the morning, you'd be cool with me just nestling between your weird pillows and watching?"</p><p> </p><p>Another shrug, even though yes, that was exactly what he was offering and he was very much cool with it. It might have spoken volumes that he would allow John into his personal space like this, when typically he enjoyed the isolation. But Dirk didn't think there was that much to it. If John wanted to watch him, who was he to stop him?</p><p>"I don't see why not, as long as you give me a heads up first. Though, I was under the impression that you didn't like my <em>dakimakura.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"God. <em>Nerd.</em> I don't mean to insult your bedmates, Dirk." He thinks about it for a moment, imagines curling up on Dirk's bed and listening to him work on whatever his latest thing is. The sounds themselves might not be good for falling asleep to, but the knowledge that someone is there with him would probably override that.</p><p>It's too bad he doesn't want to see Dave again, and Dave probably wouldn't like him coming over just for that either.</p><p>"Well, unless I climb in through your window, I may not take you up on that offer too often."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk frowns, his brows furrowing. He almost asks why, before he realizes that oh yeah, he doesn't live alone, and John and Dave would probably like to keep avoiding each other. He didn't want to make Dave uncomfortable by having John over - especially at night.</p><p>But at the same time, he didn't want John to feel as if he wasn't allowed to spend time with him at his own apartment. Dirk had a feeling he'd end up stepping on some toes either way.</p><p>"I'll talk to him about it. It isn't fair to expect you to avoid my place every time we hang out." A pause. "Unless you're uncomfortable coming over altogether."</p><p> </p><p>John fiddles with his plate as Dirk thinks that over, causing his fork to screech against the surface quietly but still shrill enough to make him wince. It doesn't seem to have carried over to anyone else in the building, thankfully.</p><p>"You don't have to talk to him about it. I think it'll just be weird no matter what." He thinks over that last part for a moment, piling together some food so he can scoop it into his mouth. "I miss going over there, but I don't know how comfortable I can really get with all this going on."</p><p>A little smile curls his mouth. "You can always set up a workshop at my apartment."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk seems to consider that, picking apart his fish into smaller bites before bringing it to his mouth with some rice.</p><p>"I'm not sure. I prefer to work in my own space." He taps his chopsticks briefly, taking another small bite. There was a second or two of hesitation before he explained himself, realizing that his bluntness might have come off as rude. "...It's. More comfortable for me that way. Plus, I have a lot of components that would take up a good amount of storage space, even with just the essentials. I don't want to overtake your apartment with my shit."</p><p> </p><p>"I wasn't asking you to move in, dude." He laughs to show he isn't like. Making it weird by clarifying in a jokey way. "Just, if you wanted to set something up if you need to get out or wanna chill and still work. I have that wall in my living room that could probably fit a desk or something. You could just bring some stuff over for a day or two, if you want. I could help you move it."</p><p> </p><p>"Moving an entire desk into your apartment just for the purpose of letting me get some work done isn't asking me to move in, no. But it's a little excessive, don't you think?" Dirk says, glancing up at John from his food.</p><p> </p><p>"It's just a desk." The conversation feels weird again, and John mirrors him in reverse, looking down at his food just as Dirk looks up. "Not really a big deal, but yeah I guess it'd be pretty dumb to do it if you aren't planning on using it."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk just stares at him for a few seconds, before dropping his eyes back to his sashimi.</p><p>"It would save us a lot of trouble if I didn't work on hardware at your place. So, I'll keep you posted if I have any coding work I need to do from just my laptop. We can make a day of it."</p><p>Dirk wasn't sure why he was negotiating this particular point so much. Was it really worth the extra trouble to just have John hang out with him while he worked, and keep himself from being weighted with loneliness?</p><p>...Maybe. It was easier not to think about it.</p><p> </p><p>"It's not a big deal or anything! We weren't exactly making plans." They were just talking about spending more time together. Casual time with no purpose or point. Just two people existing in the same space for the sake of not being alone.</p><p>John really needs to get his shit in order before he says something stupid.</p><p>"Whatever works." He takes down a few more bites before finally looking up at him again. "We heading back after this?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. Whenever." Dirk took another bite of fish before glancing up to meet John's eyes briefly. He'd finished a good bit of his food for once, and his stomach wasn't actually protesting too much. Luckily.</p><p>"<em>Back</em> as in back to your place, or <em>back</em> as in dropping me off at mine?"</p><p> </p><p>John still had about half his to go - it was a big entrée - but he kind of wants to keep the rest for home. Besides, leaving room for dessert was a good idea. So he takes one more bite before pushing it off to the side.</p><p>Dirk's question makes him pause; he kind of meant taking Dirk to his own place but now he isn't so sure. Did Dirk <em>want</em> to spend the day together? It was kind of an impulsive thing so he can't figure out what's an okay assumption and what might be overbearing or a brush off.</p><p>"What are you feeling?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wasn't sure what the right answer was, here. He enjoyed spending time with John, but he wasn't about to look like a clingy bastard, overstaying his welcome. Maybe John wanted some time to himself. Dirk had sort of sprung this whole thing on him at once, after all. It was only polite to offer him an out.</p><p>"I wouldn't mind going back to your place. But you can drop me off, if you'd rather have some time to yourself."</p><p> </p><p>He assumes that since the initial statement was to come over, that's what Dirk wanted. "Cool. I don't really have anything in mind outside the usual for entertainment or anything, but I like having you over anytime."</p><p>Maybe he should invest in some board games or something. John smiles and leans forward over the table. "What kinda games do you like?"</p><p> </p><p>"I essentially only play fighting or strategy games. And the <em>Tony Hawk</em> series, as is customary." Dirk realized that John had stopped eating, but he'd gotten a good deal more food than Dirk had. He still had a point to prove, so he kept eating his sashimi.</p><p>"Why do you ask? Trying to find more things that I can beat you at?" He mirrored John's posture, sitting forward and leaning his elbow back on the table.</p><p> </p><p>"Ass. Let me guess, you're a chess kinda guy then?" Obviously. He rolls his eyes, still smiling, and glances down at the steadily disappearing food. There's a pleasant little flip in his belly that he tries not to think too hard about. "What about shitty, gimmicky stuff? Board games like that."</p><p>They're pretty close now, and John takes a little moment to look over his - the studs. His snake bites. "You haven't forced me into eating any of your gross fish yet."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't notice where John's eyes had landed, having followed his gaze back to the food initially. He starts to break off a piece of the raw fish with his chopsticks as he spoke.</p><p>"Guilty as charged. I haven't played many board games, besides chess and Monopoly. And for the record -" Dirk says, lifting the sashimi towards John's face, clearly intending to feed it to him himself. "I was going to give you a free pass. You brought this upon yourself."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh damn. Okay, I guess I <em>gotta</em> pick up some of the shitty gimmicky stuff then. You're really missing out. Chess and monopoly huh. <em>Sheesh</em>. Literally the two longest games out there." Not that John has many better ones in mind, but he figures he can just browse the game wall at the store.</p><p>When the fish is lifted toward him, John doesn't even bother to keep up an act; he <em>was</em> kind of asking for it by calling the attention to it. He still manages a face, a mild wince, before opening his mouth. Leaning forward would mean standing out of the chair, and sticking his tongue out would feel stupid, so John stares up at Dirk and waits.</p><p> </p><p>"Chess isn't long, when you play it with me. But sure. If you'd rather play Chutes and Ladders, I'll bite."</p><p>Dirk was distracted for a couple of shameful moments, staring at John's mouth as it parted open. Staring at the pink of his tongue behind his lips. He probably shouldn't be fixated on John with his mouth open like that - not when he felt a suspicious stirring somewhere in his gut. He might have been blushing. A little.</p><p>Dirk was once again reminded that John was his <em>friend</em>, and he really needed to get laid soon.</p><p>He blinked behind his shades, glancing up to John's eyes to meet them as he brought the fish to John's mouth and placed it on his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, wow-" John laughs at what he assumes is Dirk's cockiness.</p><p>And <em>oh, wow</em>, he uses it to cover up the spike of anxiety when he realizes how bad an idea this was. He can feel Dirk looking at him, can't decide if he's imagining that color in his face, and John regrets the decision to bait him. His own skin is heated and probably a little patchy in this weird lighting.</p><p>As soon as the meat touches his tongue, he snaps out of it, pulling back and trying to keep contact with the chopsticks to a minimum - he didn't need that kind of distraction right now - as he takes the sashimi from between them. If this were a romantic moment, he'd hold them in his mouth, hold eye contact (presumably) and wait for Dirk to remove the utensils himself. But <em>it isn't</em>, so he leans away, turning his head and feeling the wood catch on his lower lip.</p><p>John chews silently before shrugging, eyes anywhere but on Dirk. "Yep, just tastes like flavorless, weird-textured meat."</p><p> </p><p>The brief moment where he'd fed John was charged with... something. Dirk wasn't sure what, but the tension was palpable. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that maybe John's face was a little red, too. Luckily though, John didn't put him through the agony of holding his gaze while he ate. Dirk wasn't sure if he'd mentally be able to maturely comprehend seeing John like that.</p><p>Dirk sat back in his seat (<em>Had they always been leaning that close?</em>) and sticks his chopsticks back in his rice, picking at it and staring down at the bowl as he tries to will his cheeks to be a little less hot.</p><p>"I'm not even surprised at your lack of taste anymore, man."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk pulls back as well, and the tightness of his body that he hadn't even been aware of finally slips away. He makes a show of eating another chunk of steak as though to wash it down, before leaning his cheek on his fist.</p><p>"Sure, dude. Different strokes." He isn't sure if he should call someone over for the mochi or if it'll come on its own, because he's done, and Dirk made some significant headway in his own meal, which frankly he was surprised by and proud of, so things should be winding down a bit.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk resists the urge to roll his eyes when John makes a deal out of eating the piece of steak, probably to get the taste out of his mouth. He was being dramatic. But, Dirk had every intention of being the same way.</p><p>He levels him with a stare, grabs his last piece of fish whole with his chopsticks, and puts the entire thing in his own mouth. It was a pretty small cut, all things considered, but it was definitely a mouthful.</p><p>He couldn't talk right now, but if he could, he would probably be saying that John just had objectively bad taste. As per usual.</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't resist the eye rolling; who knew Dirk could be so childish? But there's a glimpse of pride in the expression. He glances back down at the little bit of rice still leftover, but as a whole, he considers it Dirk's first finished meal that he can remember. (Had he finished those eggs after their night together? That might have been first now that he thought about it.)</p><p>"Damn, you love this stuff, huh?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk knows better than to risk speaking with his mouth full, so he doesn't attempt it until he's managed to swallow the whole thing. He felt a little queasy at eating so much so quickly, but wasn't that intense. His worries about puking from eating too much might have been unfounded.</p><p>Though, he still didn't have any interest in finishing his rice. He thinks he's made his point already, anyway, so he puts down his chopsticks.</p><p>"I told you that it's good."</p><p> </p><p>John hums, makes a little wishy-washy gesture with his hand, then drags the rice over to himself. He dumps it onto his plate - no point letting it go to waste - before sitting back in his chair. One leg crosses over the other as he smiles. "You ate more than I did."</p><p> </p><p>John looks pretty pleased with himself. Dirk realizes that maybe he'd been played - tricked into eating more than usual solely because of his endless need to prove something to John. It made him feel a little embarrassed. There's no way John hadn't pieced that together. But if John didn't mention it, then neither would he.</p><p>"Still think I couldn't beat you at an eating contest?"</p><p> </p><p>"You sure showed me! Once again I am a huge fool for doubting you. But jokes aside, I could totally beat you in a contest if I really tried." He scans for their server again, and someone from the back catches his eye, turning to presumably get their dessert going. "Ice cream's probably on the way. Want me to pick anything up before we get to my place after this?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm capable of eating just as much as you." Dirk says, still stuck on this for reasons even he couldn't really explain. His competitive nature probably <em>would</em> end with him barfing from overeating, if it ever came to it, but that thought wasn't in the forefront of Dirk's mind.</p><p>"I don't need anything. Unless you're seriously aching to play some Chutes and Ladders."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't really think you are, dude. Maybe you had enough stomach space for right now, but you absolutely couldn't keep up with my appetite." Okay so maybe this was a little manipulative, but if you thought about it, pranks could be manipulative and still be all in good fun, right? Besides, John's not foolish enough to believe Dirk doesn't know exactly what he's doing.</p><p>Which just makes it better that it's <em>working</em>.</p><p>"You keep bringing that game up, man. You miss it that bad or something?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't respond this time, deciding not to play anymore into the game they both knew they were playing. Of course, he still had every intention of proving him wrong in the future, though. He notices their server coming back to the table, and preemptively moves his plate out of the way for them to put down the mochi in front of himself and John. He thanked them when they put down the check, turning his attention back to John once they'd left.</p><p>"I've never played it. It's a decent martyr of all shitty board games, though." Dirk also couldn't actually think of any more examples. Did people still <em>play</em> board games, even? He certainly hadn't, growing up.</p><p> </p><p>He calls for a box as well, eyeing the bean flavored mochi across the table before picking up one of his more sensible balls. Which he, like any kind of idiot, stuffs full into his mouth. He's doing it just for the gags, of course, but it doesn't stop him from feeling a headache start to come on. When he finishes, wincing at the brain freeze, he looks up at Dirk with an almost surprised expression.</p><p>"You've never played it? What about Candy Land? Or uhhh..." John snaps his fingers, thinking. "What's the one with the little flipping things... Guess Who? I don't know if that one counts as a board game, but I played it a lot when I was a kid."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk didn't even look surprised when John stuffed the mochi into his mouth whole, but he felt himself quirking a brow regardless, fighting a smile. At least his sashimi wouldn't have given him a splitting brainfreeze, like John was probably dealing with. </p><p>He shakes his head and plucks his own mochi from the plate, taking a bite and not flinching at the cold on his teeth as he chewed.</p><p>"I meant it when I said I haven't played a lot of board games. We didn't have them growing up."</p><p> </p><p>His frown deepens, mostly from the headache but also ... not <em>pity</em> but something else at the thought of his friends not getting to have what he thought was a kind of staple of childhood. They were missing a lot of staples, actually, and yet again he finds himself resenting their oldest brother.</p><p>"I might swing by Dad's sometime and see what games he still has, if you want." It might be kind of weird to offer to let him borrow them to show Dave, so he doesn't. "Board games are fun sometimes."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wasn't sure what to make of that look John gave him. It wasn't quite concern, but it definitely wasn't happy. He looked away from it, back down at his ice cream, and took another bite.</p><p>"Sure. And I can school you on some Tony Hawk."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh boy, can't wait to glitch through a wall." John drops the frown, rubbing his forehead before taking a more modest bite. "Might not be for a little while though, unless you wanna bring your game over sooner." He doesn't know how easily he'd be able to play normal at his dad's house, and John already had plans to make for the near future anyway.</p><p> </p><p>"You'll learn with practice that clipping is a meticulous art form." Dirk says, not without sincerity. He and Dave barely even learned how to play the actual game growing up, in favor of trying to find the quickest ways to break it.</p><p>"Does your dad live far away, or something?"</p><p> </p><p>"Sure, sure. Tell me all about it, Rose." John snorts and plucks at the stretchy skin of the mochi, trying to stretch out the time before answering. "Not too far, nah."</p><p>Someone brings his box, and he starts digging for his wallet, thankful for the distraction. "Do we pay at the table or the counter?" His card is waved away, the employee confirming that they pay on their way out before heading back to presumably the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wasn't sure why John wouldn't be able to go sooner, if his dad lived close. But at the same time, he wasn't sure if there was a legitimate reason he should be pressing at. He decided to drop it for now, mentally making a note of John's clipped answer.</p><p>He takes another bite of mochi, finishing the first ball, and poking at the second. Dirk probably shouldn't eat that. His stomach was actually starting to protest. "I'm paying for myself. I hope you know that."</p><p> </p><p>John pauses from dumping his and Dirk's leftovers into his container to smirk. "I mean. If you can get there fast enough." Honestly, he kind of hopes Dirk would cover himself - this place was pricey and he's already kinda gone over budget for his casual spending for this pay period. But he'd still do it just to be annoying (because no matter what his intentions are, he can tell Dirk hates it.)</p><p> </p><p>Dirk looked surprised for a split second before his expression shifted to one of amusement, brows quirking above the rim of his shades. He puts down his chopsticks.</p><p>"I'm man enough to admit that you're a decent opponent at certain things. And I'm aware that sometimes I over exaggerate for the sake of shits and giggles. But I'm one hundred percent sincere when I tell you that you're not beatin' me in a race, Egbert."</p><p> </p><p>John smiles right back, trying not to laugh. He latches the lid of his takeout deliberately before finishing his second mochi ball, and slowly glances across the room. Was he really stupid enough to take off at a full sprint in an occupied restaurant just to play around?</p><p>...Probably. It was a gamble, because he knows Dirk doesn't have a problem behaving like a rowdy asshole once in a while, but he suspects Dirk <em>also</em> didn't want to look like a rowdy asshole in front of the familial group still chatting and laughing. So if John could at least get a head start - he was closer to the front, but only by the length of the table, and Dirk's tree legs could make up for that distance easily - then he might stand a chance if Dirk didn't actually run.</p><p>But he'd be making a fool of himself. John <em>does</em> feel shame, as much as he tries to play it off. He regretted diving over the hood of his car that one night when the couple spotted him. "Yeah. I guess you're right."</p><p>He takes his last little clump of dessert in his hand, wallet still out and resting on the takeout box. "I'd probably have to pull some shady shit to try and cheat my way into a head start, huh."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk eyes him suspiciously, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. He didn't think that John would outright run - but honestly, he might. John wasn't shy about showing out for the sake of a bit. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately) Dirk wasn't either.</p><p>Regardless, he was ready to hop up at a second's notice, his defenses heightened for whatever shit John might try to pull with the intent of sabotaging him.</p><p>"...Probably, yeah."</p><p> </p><p>He notices the posture shift and gives Dirk a sweet smile in response. "How's your bean cream?" John rolls his peach mochi in his palm, feeling it soften as the outer layer beneath the skin starts to melt. "Wanna try mine?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's suspicion was still just as clear as ever on his face, and he glances briefly down to the mochi in John's hand. In response, he picks up his own piece of red bean mochi, mirroring John.</p><p>"Only if you try mine."</p><p> </p><p>He can't fight the giggle that bubbles its way out of his chest. This was such a weird standoff!! "Okay, sure. I'm not gonna like it though." He hunches forward, hand gripping the table edge near his takeout box as he holds the ice cream out for Dirk to take. "Unless you want me to feed you?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk refuses to let his defenses lower, but John's giggling does make him smirk a bit, warmth filling up his chest. He takes the mochi, offering his to John in its place. "I'm not letting you feed me. You're going to smash it in my face, or some shit."</p><p> </p><p>Successfully called out, John's laugh only deepens. It draws a couple looks, but he doesn't notice or care. He's probably gonna get a lot more looks anyway. "Damn, that cuts deep! Don't you trust me?" He smiles wide, pressing the mochi to his lips, but makes no move to bite into it.</p><p> </p><p>"Do I trust you not to give me a freezing cold facial? No." Dirk hesitated before taking a small bite of the peach mochi, not really seeing any immediate concern in just eating it. His stomach still protested, of course, but that was the least of his concern. He couldn't parse out what John was playing at.</p><p> </p><p>"Heheh, gross." He watches, still holding his smile, but John wasn't sure if he should actually go for it. Sure, it was fun keeping him on his toes like this, and <em>sure</em>, this would be something he would want to lose, but....</p><p>"How is it? Good? Since your palate is so refined and all." He waits, counts to three as he slowly softens the adzuki mochi as best he can in his fingers, before popping the whole thing in his mouth, grabbing his leftovers and wallet, and taking off.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was ready for the fake out. As soon as he catches the sudden movement of John grabbing his stuff, he was out of his chair. John had a pretty decent head start, but Dirk had no problem overtaking him and making a beeline for the podium in the front. He was speed walking a little, sure, but there was no need to run. His long legs came in clutch.</p><p>He slid in front of John at the podium, immediately offering the employee his card, and telling them that they were splitting the bill - just in case John still tried to pull some shit. </p><p> </p><p>John squawks and tries, only for a second, to catch up. But it's pretty clear he doesn't stand a chance, and people were starting to look in earnest. He stumbles after, right on Dirk's heels and tries to wave the attention of the host to himself, but it's too late. So as he comes up on the podium, he grunts and presses his forehead to Dirk's bicep, sighing in defeat before pulling away to pay his part of the bill. </p><p>"I guess that's fair."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was satisfied with himself when he felt John press his head to his arm in defeat, instinctively resting a hand on John's head in response. He lets it drop when John pulls away to pay, but John's hair was just as soft as he remembered.</p><p>Dirk pays for his half before stepping away from the podium, starting for the exit. He wasn't sure if it was the rush to the front of the restaurant, but exhaustion had immediately started to weigh heavy in Dirk's bones, washing over him like a drug. He highly doubted that he'd gotten winded so quickly. Maybe it had something to do with the food? He hadn't eaten that much in... well, the fact that he couldn't remember spoke for itself. He rubs at his eyes under his shades briefly, ignoring the warm feeling that came with a full belly and a need for a long nap.</p><p>"I'm not sure what you were expecting, with those short legs."</p><p> </p><p>The hand in his hair guarantees that he's flustered and red-faced as he pays, but thankfully now that they're no longer speeding through the building, they aren't holding too much attention. It still brings his thoughts into the past, so he pushes it right on out of his head, following Dirk.</p><p>"Wow, hey, I've got great legs, don't you dare give me shit. Not everyone's part giraffe, here." He gropes for his keys, feeling comfortably full and ready to head home to relax. "Wanna watch anything?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk circles around to the passenger side of the car when they reach it, and climbs in once John unlocks the door. Sitting down really only exemplified his drowsiness, so he did his best to sit up straight and ignore it once he'd buckled up. He was supposed to be spending the day with John, not passing out in his car.</p><p>"Nice comeback, bro. Didn't you want to show me a horror movie that you liked?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ass." John snorts as he falls into his seat, buckling in and taking off when he's sure they haven't left anything behind. "Oh damn, yeah. I forgot! There are a few good ones, I'll see what's online when we get back." There's an almost slowness to Dirk's words, barely noticeable if you were paying attention, and thankfully for him, John isn't. He's focused on the road, but his mind still takes that information and tucks it away as something to realize later on.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk leans his head back against the headrest, keeping his eyes on the road just for something to look at, so they wouldn't close. He wasn't sure if John noticed he sudden decrease in energy, but he liked to think it wasn't that noticeable.</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>It's all Dirk says, not feeling much for conversation. Too much thinking. It could get tiring to socialize.</p><p> </p><p>His head tilts, but he keeps his eyes on the road. There's a second where he's tempted to ask if something was wrong, but the tension that he usually feels when Dirk's answers are short isn't there, so he chalks it up to casual disinterest and allows the rest of the car ride to go by silently.</p><p>Up until he hits his first red light and turns to look over at him. "You alright?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk didn't realize that his eyes had closed until John spoke, and they snapped open. He shifted in his seat, a little flustered, and sat up straighter. Had he seriously been falling asleep? This <em>never</em> happened to Dirk. If anything, he struggled to fall asleep, not stop himself from it.</p><p>"Yeah. Just a little tired."</p><p> </p><p>The sight of Dirk rousing himself makes John jump a little, surprised. But then he smiles, turning back to the road when red flashes to green. "Aw," he can't resist saying, even if it risks making Dirk angry or embarrassed. Halfway to his apartment though, he bites his lip. "You wanna go home instead?"</p><p> </p><p>John's little coo of endearment definitely served to embarrass Dirk, naturally. He sighed softly, pushing his shades up into his hair so he could press the heels of his palms to his eyes.</p><p>"No. I'm fine, seriously." He pulls his hands away after a few seconds, reaching over to turn on the A/C. Cold air would probably help keep him awake.</p><p> </p><p>John isn't convinced, but he's not about to argue or make a decision himself that might piss Dirk off and make things uncomfortable between them after a nice day. "If you say so." He fully intends to carry Dirk to bed if he catches him asleep on the couch.</p><p>"You know, I ate that fucking mochi so fast I didn't even taste it."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm surprised you didn't choke. On either of them. The peach was pretty good, by the way. I assume that you didn't taste that one either, considering you swallowed it in ten seconds."</p><p>Dirk says, glancing briefly over at John. His eyes were still heavy, but he wasn't actively falling asleep right now, so it was alright.</p><p> </p><p>"I ate the second one! My point is, I still feel like beans are a bad dessert flavor." He spares Dirk a glance just before pulling into the parking garage. As soon as the car engine was off, he slips out of his seatbelt and smiles. "Want me to carry you in, or can you still walk?"</p><p> </p><p>"You didn't even taste it." He insists.</p><p>Dirk catches the glance and quirks a brow at him, like John didn't actually have probable cause to suggest doing that. He unbuckles his seatbelt, scoffing slightly. "Very funny. I told you I'm fine, man. I'm awake."</p><p> </p><p>"Well it didn't exactly blow me out of the water! If it's so great, I should probably have <em>some</em> memory of the flavor." John shrugs at the declined offer, grabbing his epipen and takeout box, checking that he has everything before climbing out of the car.</p><p>"If you say so." He darts forward to get the door for Dirk, checking his phone again and finally responding to Dave's messages. It's the only thing he can think to say.</p><p>'i'm trying.'</p><p> </p><p>Dirk climbs out of the car when John does, hands in his pockets as he follows him to the door where they'd ran into John's neighbor earlier. Dirk wondered idly if he was home yet, since John had mentioned wanting to talk to him.</p><p>He brushes past him through the doorway while John fiddles with his phone, his steps feeling heavy as he treks down the hall for John's apartment.</p><p>"It's like you're adamant to dislike everything that tastes good. It's almost impressive."</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't wait long for a reply that he is pretty sure won't come. But John still watches the screen until Dirk slips past him into the building. He closes the message and clicks off the screen, not even sighing as he follows his friend in.</p><p>"Hey man, I like what I like! Just because I think raw fish is a weird thing to consider a delicacy and beans don't make for a good dessert flavor, doesn't mean I'm <em>wrong</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>"I have my suspicions that you just say you don't like shit just to fuck with me." Dirk glances over to John as they reach the door to his place. He sort of felt like he was about to yawn, but managed to clench his jaw and avoid it.</p><p>"But fine. I get it. Sashimi and adzuki aren't your thing. You made your point well enough. Maybe one day you'll even have a take on food that isn't controversial."</p><p> </p><p>John laughs as he unlocks and pushes open the door, letting Dirk in first. "Oh my god. Would that actually work? Are you <em>that</em> invested in my sense of taste to get legitimately worked up about it?" He clicks his tongue as he slips inside, slipping into the kitchenette to put away his box before making a beeline for the couch and his new toy.</p><p> </p><p>"Not really. It's just a Thing that we do at this point, you're obviously allowed to have your own opinions. I'm not genuinely trying to shit on you for them."</p><p>That was... remarkably upfront and honest. Dirk didn't seem to have it in him to bullshit as much - but the way the sincerity just flowed right out of him was a little concerning. He didn't make a habit of talking to people when he was this tired for good reason.</p><p>Dirk was already on the couch by the time John returned from the kitchen, not even thinking to take off his shoes, or anything.</p><p> </p><p>John picks up Casey and tries not to smile too much when Dirk admits they have a <em>thing</em>. He still laughs a little, mostly to himself, as he digs the remote out from between the couch cushions before settling on the other side of the seat.</p><p>"Okay cool, cause I'd hate to upset you when I inevitably shit on more of your favorite foods." He doesn't mind Dirk getting comfortable, especially when it means he's this sincere.</p><p>"You wanna start light, or jump right into the good stuff?"</p><p> </p><p>He hears John's laugh, but he doesn't think anything of it, or suspect that it might have been at him.</p><p>"I'm not sure. Was there more you wanted to show me?" Dirk asks, shifting on the couch to get more comfortable. He reminded himself that he wasn't going to fall asleep. Not falling asleep was what he did best. He could handle a little more of it.</p><p> </p><p>"Housebound still isn't on Netflix right now, so we'll have to get creative. Oh, we never got too far in Stranger Things, I guess. If you wanted to stick with a horror theme." He wouldn't mind continuing his marathon with Dirk, especially since it doesn't seem like he's gonna last too long.</p><p>"But whatever you're feeling. Have we talked about The Ritual yet? Good monster design in that one."</p><p> </p><p>"We can watch Stranger Things. Based on what I've seen, I wouldn't classify it as horror, though." Dirk says, folding his arms over his chest. He was still adamant about staying awake. In retrospect, maybe he should have asked for something with a lot more jumpscares.</p><p>"You're the host, though. Dazzle me with your entertaining skills."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, it's kinda dulled down since it's aimed more towards kids, but it's definitely a thriller. Or maybe I'm just really bad at classifying genres." Now that he mentions it, was it really aimed at a younger audience? Some wild shit goes down in later seasons, and it got pretty spooky. But that didn't matter, because Dirk wasn't gonna make it to later seasons.</p><p>"Wow, way to put the pressure on. I can't wait to be a disappointing host!"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk smiles a bit, his eyes leaving John in favor of looking to the TV screen. He closed them for a brief moment, as if to blink away the heaviness, but it really only made them harder to keep open at all. He was too focused on that to pay much attention to what he was actually saying in response.</p><p>"You're never a bad host. Not really, anyway. You washed my shoe for me once. Then cooked for me the next morning. Shitty hosts wouldn't do that."</p><p> </p><p>He's kind of glad Dirk chose to look away before saying all that, because he knows he's blushing again. "Uh huh. Tryhard hosts might though." Not that he was putting extra effort in that night/morning. But he just felt weird accepting this sleepy compliment without making light of it somehow.</p><p>John scrolls down to the last episode he can remember watching, lowering the volume before letting Netflix pick it back up. "I felt responsible for the shoe."</p><p> </p><p>"You weren't responsible." Dirk was starting to mumble, his chin leaning closer to his chest. His eyes were still open though, affixed to the TV intently.</p><p>"You didn't force me to step in filthy minigolf water. It was all of my own clumsy ass volition. I could have cleaned it myself."</p><p> </p><p>"You were planning a Viking funeral." John isn't even pretending to watch the screen - the show of Dirk trying to stay awake was <em>way</em> more entertaining. He smiles and gives the salamander in his lap a little squeeze, making sure to keep his voice even.</p><p>"I wanted to save it if I could. Because I was <em>partially</em> responsible. At least a little."</p><p> </p><p>"If you say so." Maybe John was right. Probably. What were they talking about again? Dirk's brows furrowed, and he blinked. His eyes had slipped closed again without his notice, and he righted himself where he'd started to slump on the couch, mumbling a soft curse under his breath.</p><p>Stranger Things. They were watching Stranger Things, and talking about the night after their first date. It was hard for him, suddenly, not to think about the main event of that night that they were bracketing with the shoe issue and breakfast the morning after. More unfiltered words were spilling from him as he found himself rubbing at his eyes again.</p><p>"Thanks for doing that. All of it. You were really nice to me, considering what a one track mind I had about my intentions with you."</p><p> </p><p>It was pretty fucking sweet, watching him start to slip and catch himself. He considered taking a picture, but felt a kind of sourness in his belly at the thought. That was sort of how all this got started, and John felt a little nervous about potential boundaries and lines being crossed. So pictures were out.</p><p>That sourness twists in his gut even more when Dirk thanks him, tells him John was <em>nice</em>, and now he's feeling guilty because he took something like that and made himself sound like the bad guy.</p><p>"Dirk..." He doesn't know what to say. Apologize? Tell him he wasn't being nice, he was trying to make it up to Dirk? Remind him that he had every right to do whatever he wanted? John was supposed to be the one with guilt here, but he knew saying that would probably just get Dirk to clam up again.</p><p>"You deserved someone being nice."</p><p> </p><p>"You always say that." Dirk mutters, his eyes falling shut again. When his head started to loll this time, he didn't right himself as quickly. There was a moment where Dirk was completely still, his breaths evening out and slowing.</p><p>It was a good minute or so before Dirk snapped out of it, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and sit in a position that maybe wouldn't have him just passing the fuck out. He was out of it enough to think he was still managing to make it look pretty casual though, so he didn't chance looking over to John.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, cause I mean it." Dirk doesn't say anything for a while, and John starts to sit up, thinking this was it, he was finally out. Now he just had to think of a way to move him to the bed without bugging him.</p><p>But he pulls himself up suddenly enough that John jolts, almost laughs at the situation. He watches as Dirk tries so damn hard to stay up, and he almost says 'dude, just give in already.' But that'd make him stubborn probably.</p><p>So, as casually as he can manage, John offers, "You can head to my room if you want."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk actually does look over to John at that, frowning. There was a split second where his stomach flipped, reading the context <em>very</em> incorrectly considering where his mind had just been, before he realizes that John was probably just telling him to go lay down. Was Dirk really being that obvious?</p><p>"We're watching something."</p><p> </p><p>John just assumes the frown is annoyance that he'd been called out, and he shrugs. "You're not really watching anything. And my bed is more comfortable than the couch." Again, he almost threatens to carry him there, but he bites his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>"I am watching it," Dirk insists, even though he most definitely had not retained any sort of information since John had started the episode. "I'm fine, John. I'm awake. I wouldn't have come over if I was intending to pass out on you."</p><p> </p><p>"You don't just <em>intend</em> to get sleepy, man. It's cool. I'm kinda glad." He wonders just how out of it Dirk is. "It's cute."</p><p>Really playing with fire there, buddy. John leans over, almost laying across the cushions, to tuck his toy up against Dirk's leg. "Don't worry about it."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not cute." Dirk says, but his eyes were closing again. He'd shifted from his leaning position to rest his chin in one of his hands, with the flimsy mental excuse that it was just more comfortable to sit that way. The arm holding his chin was swaying a little bit.</p><p> </p><p>John can see the inevitable whiplash coming a mile away. He doesn't make an attempt to argue the cute thing, instead slowly standing so he can stand before Dirk. He doesn't want to hesitate long enough that the arm gives out and he snaps forward, so John makes a quick decision to curl his fingers beneath Dirk's chin, giving him a little more support before resting his other hand on his shoulder.</p><p>"Come on."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk didn't even have his wits about him enough to be embarrassed at John touching him so gently. Normally he might have felt his face burst into flames, but this time, there wasn't even a blush. His protests were weaker now, despite the way his brow furrowed in aggravation, he didn't pull away.</p><p>"I said I'm okay."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, I know. Come on, Dirk." He crouches a little, unnecessarily, ready to tug his arm up over his shoulder if he had to. The lack of any real protest was answer enough, but John still didn't want to do anything that might legitimately upset his friend. So he'd wait for permission, or at least for Dirk to give in and come with him.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk didn't say anything, instead just rubbing at his eyes again under his shades, partly from tiredness, and partly for an excuse not to meet John's gaze. He gets up to his feet, leaning on John a frankly unnecessary amount for someone that was awake.</p><p> </p><p>He must be really out of it if he's giving in already. John smiles at the floor, hooking an arm around his waist and slowly walking him to his room. "Want the fan on? Extra blankets?" The sounds of the show are still coming through the walls, and he regrets not pausing it or turning it off. "Or a timer to be set?" Even though these are kind of important questions, John still speaks barely above a whisper.</p><p> </p><p>"Fan." Dirk replies shortly, before amending it with a: "Please."</p><p>He wasn't out of his mind enough to say it, but he liked feeling John's warmth against him - feeling his arm wrapped around him securely as they shuffled into John's room. He definitely wasn't out of it enough to ask him to stay. But, maybe enough to consider it, for a moment or two.</p><p> </p><p>John was already considering it. Nothing suggestive, just chilling on the floor with his back against the bed as he messed around on his phone. But he decides maybe that'd be too much, and they've come a long way in their friendship but casual intimacy wasn't a part of it. So he helps Dirk into bed, dragging the blankets over him before walking to the other side of the room to set the fan on low.</p><p>"Text me if you need anything else, okay? Still got your phone?"</p><p> </p><p>"Mh." Dirk hums, instinctively pulling the covers up to his nose when it doesn't seem like John was planning on crawling in next to him. Not that he should have been surprised, really. That would have been a little much.</p><p>He puts his shades next to him on the bed as an afterthought before tucking his face down into the blankets. He was out almost immediately, the little furrow in his brow smoothing out as he sunk into sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Once again, John blurts out a soft little "Cute," before picking up the shades and setting them on his bedside table instead. He indulges himself, taking a moment just to notice the differences of a sleeping Dirk, before quietly leaving the room. He shuts off Netflix and stretches along the couch, fooling with his phone and wondering if there's a specific time he should maybe wake Dirk up, if he does it at all.</p><p>He feels like the longer he stays here, the more upset Dave will be, but for once he doesn't let that make him feel guilty.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter is probably one of my favorite parts in the rp. I get to play one of my favorite characters and also Dirk has a Good Time</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one has some character swapping, which is a little jarring I think, but I didn't know of a smoother transition. The 'side character' dialogue in the scene will be in italics. But I switched which would be considered the 'side character' twice in this scene. It's harder to tell since I'm not keeping text colors, so I apologize for any confusion.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dirk leaves, well rested and weirdly apologetic (John assured him it wasn't a big deal, but he isn't sure how much of the assurance actually took) and it's around the time John's neighbor usually comes home, from the few times he can remember spotting him on his way back. It's time to put the plan in motion.</p><p>He was right that the weird moment with Dirk only made it that much more difficult to appeal to the big guy, but John can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be and eventually they work out a day and time for John's plans. He shoots Dirk a message, asking if Wednesday afternoon was open, and once he has the go-ahead, he almost can't wait to get things rolling.</p><p>Filming it would be weird, right? Yeah. Probably. Maybe Dirk would be open to have pictures taken once they got there, but he decides against anything else. But despite all the work it took to work his way into Equius' good graces to get him to agree to all this, John really doesn't have a lot he needs to do to prepare.</p><p>The day of, he makes sure to wear some sturdy clothing, texting Dirk to tell him to do the same, and aside from a small pack of water and snacks, he's good to go. There's also Casey, who travels in his car from time to time, and his tie that he plans on using if Dirk agrees to be blindfolded. But of course these were optional.</p><p>As soon as he's parked outside the apartment, John sends a text letting Dirk know he's ready.</p><p>'i'm outside! you have everything you need?'</p><p> </p><p>'Yeah. I made sure to inform my next of kin that I'm being whisked off to a mysterious location, and to let the cops know that it was you when I die.'</p><p>Dirk taps out the text before lacing up his boots. He didn't have any idea what John had planned for him, and admittedly, it was making him anxious. He'd never been much for surprises. But John seemed excited about whatever their plans were this Wednesday, and Dirk trusted him where it counted. John wasn't about to drive him off a cliff, but he might pie him in the face, or some shit.</p><p>Dirk shrugs on his hoodie, knocking on Dave's door frame as he started to leave before poking his head in to say goodbye. He and Karkat were sitting on the floor, playing some game on Dave's phone together, so Dirk wouldn't be surprised if he got a text later asking where he went since neither of them even looked up. Dirk pocketed his wallet and keys, phone still in hand as he headed out the front door.</p><p>He spotted John's car outside pretty easily, climbing in the passenger seat without even so much of a 'hello' before he's saying:</p><p>"Do you seriously need to blindfold me for this?"</p><p> </p><p>John huffs down at his phone, shooting back 'i own up to it wholeheartedly :P' and after feeling a little dumb for the emote he stares at the entrance to the apartment building. He can't help but get more and more excited by the whole thing, and as soon as he sees Dirk, he's practically squirming in his seat.</p><p>When Dirk climbs into his car, John just takes the first few seconds to grin, seemingly hyperactive as he shifts around. "I mean, not really! And not right away at least, just when we get closer. I just really wanna see your face when we get there, but it's cool if it's too weird."</p><p>He made sure to memorize the way there so Dirk wouldn't look at his phone and figure it out early. Which also meant knowing which exit was just before the one he needed, so he'd know where to pull over and get the blindfold on.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk wasn't surprised that John was visibly just as excited as he'd come off over text, but it was still a little cute to see John practically squirming in his seat like this. (In the most platonic way possible, of course.)</p><p>"I'll put it on. But I'll warn you again, if this is a prank, I'm kicking your ass and walking home." He was <em>mostly</em> joking about that, glancing up at John over the rim of his shades as he buckled his seatbelt. He hadn't brought his modified shades today, just in case, so he still had his spare set on. Though, he'd considered going without them all together. He had no clue what John could have up his sleeve.</p><p> </p><p>"If you don't like it, I'll pay for your Uber myself." He worries, for a minute, if he's blowing this way out of proportion. Sure, Dirk liked horses and said he wanted to see real ones, but was he expecting it to go like a little kid in a ... a really cool petting zoo? John can't think of a proper analogy.</p><p>He tries not to get anxious over this; at the very least, it'll be pretty cool for him too.</p><p>"I'll give you a heads up before we get to the spot. It's kind of a drive, and I don't want you to have to wear it the whole time. Ready to go?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm ready." Dirk said, eyeing the tie that John would use to cover his eyes with. At least John was classy about it, he supposed.</p><p>"Am I allowed to ask questions?" He wondered if he'd actually be able to figure out what John was up to - if it was out of town, it must have been something pretty specific that he had in mind.</p><p> </p><p>He starts the drive, not letting his excitement impair his focus. "You can always ask questions! But I might not answer. It's not a prank, just to reassure you." God, hopefully Dirk doesn't come too close to guessing, because he's not sure he can keep a straight face.</p><p>"Just try not to ruin it!"</p><p> </p><p>"Is it hiking? If it's hiking, you should probably take me back home. I'm an insect magnet, and I'd like to keep my blood." It was Dirk's first thought when John told him to wear some sturdy clothes, assuming that they might be getting dirty.</p><p>"Actually, if it's anything to do with going in the woods, I'm going to get eaten alive."</p><p> </p><p>"Not hiking, but we'll be outdoors." He narrows his eyes, thinking. "I don't think it'd be a very woodsy place, though. Bugs are inevitable! But probably not the biting kind." God, he knows he's gonna give it away early! He <em>really</em> doesn't wanna spoil it, but he also doesn't wanna be too suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk seems to consider that, looking out the window as he ruled out a few of his guesses. Outside? What could have John so excited that they could do outside? Something clicked in the back of Dirk's mind, and he landed on a guess he was certain had to be right.</p><p>"It's paintball, isn't it. That's why you're so excited. It's the chance to shoot me with a weapon."</p><p> </p><p>John only laughs, and doesn't bother confirming or denying it. It was a great misdirection, and with how sure he sounded, it'd just make the surprise even better. "Maybe. I wonder how badly my depth perception issue might mess with any aiming. Shooting wildly would probably be my best bet."</p><p> </p><p>"I knew I shouldn't have worn my shades. Though, I doubt I'll have to worry about the possibility of you shooting them off my face." Dirk says, feeling a bit proud of himself that he'd managed to guess the surprise so quickly. He knew it was sort of a buzz killing thing to do, but hey. That was what Dirk was.</p><p>He turns on the radio to a random station, just for the background noise as he looks out the window, settling in his seat a bit to get comfortable for a decently long car ride.</p><p> </p><p>"You can keep them in the car." His squirming is renewed, and he hopes Dirk still believes it's because John is eager for violence. And really, paintball? Please. John distinctly remembers mentioning laser tag at least like... once or twice! Why would he want to go paintballing? That shit hurt.</p><p>"Did you eat? We might be out here for a while." And John had a cooler in the trunk with some snacks, but he planned on that to be after the big thing.</p><p> </p><p>"I had coffee this morning." Dirk says, glancing over to John. He knew John resented that he classified coffee as food, but it was a decent breakfast choice, and Dirk would die on that hill.</p><p>"I don't think it's the best idea to eat beforehand, considering you'll likely throw up if you're shot in the stomach."</p><p> </p><p>Sure enough, John makes a face. But if he's gonna play along with this guess, he has to concede. "Yeah, maybe. And my torso is a pretty big target, huh? I'd probably get hit in the chest more than anywhere else. We can just get something after. I have a bag of candy in the glove compartment though, if you want any."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm good. Coffee, remember?"</p><p>Dirk was silent for a moment or two before he started to press John again, out of curiosity more than anything. "Why paintball? Is laser tag not good enough for you?"</p><p> </p><p>Well damn. John's face twists up again, almost insulted. "Yeah, you know, lasers just aren't punishing and painful enough." They're coming up on the halfway mark, and John leans forward in his seat.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk huffs a laugh at that, out of surprise more than anything. He knew it was likely a joke, but something about the delivery seemed foreign coming out of John's mouth. Regardless though, he didn't think to be suspicious.</p><p>"Jesus, Egbert. If you wanted to <em>punish</em> me we could have just fought in the parking garage, or some shit. And here I was just joking about you dumping my body in the woods somewhere."</p><p> </p><p>"Nah, come on. I'm not some brawler. I mean, I absolutely will throw down if I have to, but Fight Clubbing isn't my style. And don't worry, your body is safe with me. No dumping in the woods. <em>This time.</em> ... Ugh, that's a creepy joke, I'm not playing along with that one anymore."</p><p>His tongue flicks out to wet his lips as he starts looking more in earnest for the exit he needs to pause at. "Keep an eye open for 49, would you?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk chuckles through his nose, keeping an eye out the window on the exit signs. They couldn't have been too far at this point, since the exits were in the fifties. It was a few more minutes before Dirk pointed out the sign.</p><p>"Exit 49 is in a mile."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk spots it before him, and John wiggles again, eagerly. "You ready for that blindfold, dude?" He pulls into the next truck stop, parking and turning to make sure he's alright with it. "No problem if you change your mind."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk blinks at him, looking genuinely confused as his brows knit slightly. He'd sort of thought that they were here, and that was why John had asked for the exit, not to blindfold him.</p><p>"Why do I still need the blindfold? I know where we're going."</p><p> </p><p>The smile freezes on his face. John bites down hard on his lip - they were almost there, so it might not matter if Dirk starts guessing again, but it would be even funnier if he went in expecting paintball.</p><p>"...There's a little more to it. I still have a surprise up my sleeve."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk squints at him, suspicious. He wasn't sure what else John could have been planning that he hadn't already guessed. It was a moment or two before Dirk hesitantly took off his shades, amber eyes blinking at the sudden brightness, before he folds them and places them in the cupholder.</p><p>"...And this isn't a prank."</p><p> </p><p>"Mmh. Maybe a little. But not the kind that'll embarrass or annoy you, I promise. I really think you'll like it, Dirk." John smiles reassuringly at him before climbing onto his knees in his seat so he can lean over the center console.</p><p>He snatches the tie and loosely drapes it across Dirk's nose so he can tie it behind his head. "Can you see anything?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's stomach flips when John leans closer to him, a little embarrassed that he was still finding things that made him feel a <em>certain</em> way, even though he and John had just been friends for a good while now.</p><p>Luckily though, it didn't show on his face, and he closes his eyes as John ties off the tie over his eyes. When he opens them, all he sees is darkness, and maybe a bit of the tie's color.</p><p>"No, nothing."</p><p> </p><p>"Great! Let me know if you start getting motion sick." As soon as he's sure Dirk can't see (the good ol' handwave in front of the face test) John takes off again. It's still a couple minutes before he takes the actual exit and drives down the stone country road, and when he can see their destination clearly, John puts it in park.</p><p>He hopes they're just far enough that no sounds will be audible that might give it away too soon, but there's a distinct kind of smell to the air out here. "Would it be weird to film you taking off the blindfold? ... Probably, yeah. Never mind. Go ahead and look."</p><p>They were parked a short walk away from a large field and stables. There were horses and mules clearly visible from the car, both in their pens and trotting around behind the miles of fences. But John doesn't look away from Dirk.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk could feel the bumpiness of the roads once they'd gotten off the highway, mumbling something about it being like Texas all over again before they came to a stop. It wasn't that outlandish for paintball to be in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, though. Dirk was already reaching to take off the blindfold when John asked him about recording him, and he paused with his hands hovering behind his head. It didn't last long though, once he got the go ahead, and continued untying the tie around his head. He squints at the light, briefly disoriented once the blindfold was off and he started to question John.</p><p>"Film me for what? Why would you need to..."</p><p>Dirk trails off. Once his eyes focused, the confusion in his expression shifted to that of shock. His eyes widened, mouth dropping into a slight 'o' as his jaw went slack. He glanced from the sight in front of him to John for a split second, as if he was making sure that he was actually seeing the same thing that he was. For once, Dirk didn't seem to notice or care that he was completely unguarded.</p><p>There was a long moment where Dirk didn't say anything. He just stared out the windshield, watching the horses (<em>Horses!</em> Actual fucking horses!) trot around. The surprise on his face had mellowed out into something completely unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was small.</p><p>"You... took me to see horses."</p><p> </p><p>It doesn't take long for John to be glad he wasn't filming this. Sure, that first double-take was pretty funny, but it slowly starts to shift from funny, to cute, to something else entirely. He can't tell just what's going through Dirk's mind when he speaks, sounding nothing like John's ever heard from him before. He wonders if maybe he made a mistake somehow.</p><p>Maybe he shouldn't be here with him. Maybe he should have given Dirk the address and had him spend a day with them without John treating him like one of those dumb feelgood animal videos on YouTube.</p><p>His chest does something unpleasant, and the energy seeps from him. John smiles and slowly climbs out of the car. "Yeah. You wanna go closer?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. Fuck, yeah, I do. Are we allowed to? Whose horses are these? I know well enough not to trespass on a farm, I mean I grew up in Texas, you'll get shot for that shit, but how did you find this place?" Dirk babbles, climbing out of the car immediately once he was snapped out of his stunned stillness. </p><p>His tone was disbelieving - but it was pretty obvious at this point that it was barely covering his excitement. He was still trying to take all of this in.</p><p> </p><p>John smiles and walks around the car to touch Dirk's arm. He squints until he spots a specific, familiar figure working in the stables, hair tied back to keep it out of the way. John points. "My neighbor. His family owns this place and people rent out space for their horses. He still comes by sometimes to help around cause he loves them too. I remembered the carousel thing and thought I could get him to agree."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk follows John's pointing to spot his neighbor, putting the pieces together as John explains. He nods absently, actually only half listening to the explanation as he watches the horses and mules graze.</p><p>He rests his hand over John's when he feels it on his arm, not even giving it a second thought.</p><p>"I..." Dirk's voice had gone soft again, and he tore his eyes away from the pasture to look at John. "You set this all up just for me?"</p><p> </p><p>This was absolutely not going to plan. John had been so ready to see Dirk trip all over himself in an attempt to pet all the horses. But this was... emotional in a way he didn't even think would happen. His chest feels tight, and he's kind of afraid, especially when Dirk touches his hand and looks at him like that.</p><p>"Yeah, I mean. He said he took care of horses and then you said you wanted to see them so I thought it'd be a cool thing to do. You kinda made it harder for me the other day, though, so thanks for that."</p><p>He planned on the final surprise to happen when they got up there, but John figures the quickest way to push this moment along would be to let Dirk know what was coming. "He agreed to give you a riding lesson. Just one, and it's gonna be kinda condensed, but."</p><p> </p><p>He barely even lets John finish. Dirk pulls John into a tight hug, his arms winding around him and <em>squeezing.</em> He'd never been good at expressing himself, and that was no secret. But he didn't think that anyone had ever done something so thoughtful for him.</p><p>John was one of three people that had paid enough attention to one of his few inane obsessions to realize that maybe, just maybe, Dirk was a guy with real feelings, and the things he loved were deeper than his surface level ironic bullshit.</p><p>He wasn't sure if even he was enough of an asshole to try and play it cool right now, even if he could.</p><p>"Thank you, John."</p><p> </p><p>His breath catches in his throat, and he's happy he didn't intend on continuing because after this, he wouldn't be able to. John inhales a moderately shaky breath and hesitates only for a second before slowly wrapping his arms around his friend. He doesn't squeeze, just loosely holds him, stroking his back.</p><p>"Y... yeah." John swallows, knows he must be red, and presses his face into the skin between Dirk's neck and shoulder. He tells himself he's just trying to hide his flush. "...Okay, alright man." He forces a laugh and awkwardly pats Dirk's back before trying to step away. "Come on. Apparently he's gotta show you a bunch of horse care stuff before you even start riding, so you better get over there."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk lingers for maybe a second longer after John pats his back, and when he pulls away, he was smiling. It was another of those genuine ones, that only lasted for a brief moment. He looked at him for a moment, searching John's eyes like he was looking for something. If he noticed that John was feeling awkward, he didn't address it.</p><p>Eventually though, Dirk steps back. His smile is still lingering on his face, and he turns his attention back to the horses, already starting for the gate. He sort of felt shitty about treating John's neighbor (Fuck, what was his name, even?) weirdly before, especially now that he was doing him a favor.</p><p>"What's his name? It never came up."</p><p> </p><p>John returns the smile, holding eye contact with his pulse racing. He still felt like he was in over his head; he spent all that time getting over the whole thing, but now their platonic friendship felt a little shaky in his eyes.</p><p>He just wanted to give a fun surprise that he might look silly enjoying.</p><p>John almost doesn't catch the question, but he pulls out of it in time before leaning against the car. "Equius. You want me to take pictures or anything?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not going to stop you. But aren't you coming in with me?" Dirk hesitates at the gate, not stepping through just yet. He was completely fucking ecstatic that he was actually getting to do this, but he wasn't about to let John just sit on the sidelines.</p><p>He wanted to do this with him.</p><p>"I know that he only offered to give me the lessons, but you can still come in with me, right?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, yeah. I didn't know if you wanted to have this all to yourself or not! But I won't take any pictures unless you want me to." John quickly checks his pockets before locking the door, following Dirk up to the gate. Hopefully there'd be benches he could chill out in while Dirk was going on his adventure.</p><p>"You sure you want me around? All I'm gonna do is make stupid commentary."</p><p> </p><p>"You think I've put up with you this long, and don't expect you to do that already?" Dirk teases, quirking a brow. He was hoping to lighten the mood a little bit - he was becoming increasingly aware that he'd just been incredibly sincere with John, and the mushiness was making him a little uncomfortable. It was so foreign to be upfront with John - or anyone, really. The joking might get them back on track.</p><p>"Come on." Dirk pushes open the gate, eyeing a horse grazing nearby in case she decided to bolt, or something. He wondered if he could pet her. Would she be afraid? Should he ask Equius for permission first? He should probably ask for permission first.</p><p>He was mumbling these thoughts lowly to himself, having paused in the pasture once they were inside.</p><p> </p><p>It successfully eases that strange tension that was building, and John snickers, bumping shoulders as they walk through the gate. He thinks Dirk might still be talking to him for a minute, but when he leans in closer it's pretty obvious Dirk is mumbling about horses. He bites back any kind of reaction because he wasn't about to tease his friend in a way that could curb his enthusiasm.</p><p>Apparently this meant a lot more to Dirk than he anticipated.</p><p>When the gate swings open, it manages to catch Equius' attention and he sets aside the shovel he was using. John waves as obnoxiously as ever, which doesn't seem to bother him as much as it used to as Equius looks them over.</p><p>He still doesn't look happy, but it could just be his neutral expression, because he's still walking over to greet them.</p><p>
  <em>"Hi."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Hey. Thanks for letting us come see the horses." Dirk says, in favor of anything actually resembling an introduction. Equius knew who he was well enough. Not that he'd made a good impression, or anything. He wondered how John had convinced him to even let them come here at all. He'd have to ask him later.</p><p>"Am I allowed to pet them? I know that some horses tend to be skittish. I don't want to spook anyone."</p><p>Dirk probably should have waited, maybe, for Equius to respond to his greeting before jumping right in with the requests. But fuck it, Dirk was excited, and he probably already thought he was an asshole anyway.</p><p> </p><p>From the way his face softens, almost imperceptibly, Equius preferred that to any sort of greeting. <em>"Some of them. But ask first. We have one that bites."</em> John's hands, which had been resting on the lip of a stall, slowly slide back down to his sides.</p><p>He gives Dirk a little pat, pointing to a bench. "I'll be over there, alright?"</p><p><em>"Do you have any experience with horses at all?"</em> John had already informed him that he didn't, aside from an 'overwhelming admiration', but he doesn't exactly trust much of what John had to say, so best to get information from the source.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk glances over to John when he's pat, giving him a nod and feeling a slight smile tug at his lips. It was only for a split second though, before his attention was back on Equius.</p><p>"No hands on experience. I've never had the opportunity." Dirk admits. "I've done research recreationally, though."</p><p> </p><p>Equius looks him over, considering. He didn't seem to be mocking him, which was a surprise considering their shared history so far, so he offers his name without a hand to shake. Which was really for the other man's benefit - he'd been shoveling muck for the past several minutes and only just now gotten a towel.</p><p>"Equius Zahhak. I've apparently agreed to give you a condensed riding lesson, which normally wouldn't include actual riding until the second or third session, but considering you aren't a child and I don't intend to see you back after this, I can make an exception."</p><p>He turns and waves for him to follow, passing by several stalls before coming up to a small white pony. "This is Maplehoof. She's too small for both of us to ride together, but she's the sweetest we have here, and the best option to get you used to horses. When you're ready, we'll be riding Snow." He points to a large black mare at the very end of the row.</p><p>"She's not much of a people-horse, but she's calm, and she's been around a long while and has enough experience to be a good first ride."</p><p> </p><p>"Dirk Strider." He doesn't seem to mind not shaking Equius' hand. He'd definitely been shoveling shit, and Dirk has a feeling that had something to do with why he didn't offer it. "I'm a quick learner, so this should work out for both of us."</p><p>He follows Equius into the stable, laying eyes on the little white pony as soon as he could see her. He was just about to ask her name when they ended up stopping at her stall anyway. Dirk knew that she wasn't a foal, but a genuine pony (!!), thanks to her stature, and felt a giddy sort of warmth in his chest that didn't show at all on his stoic face. Maplehoof was fucking <em>adorable.</em></p><p>Dirk steps back from the stall slightly to follow Equius' gesture to Snow, a majestic looking mare that he'd get to be acquainted with soon enough, but for now, his attention was on this pony.</p><p>Dirk slowly offered the back of his hand for her to sniff.</p><p>"Is Snow one of your biters?"</p><p> </p><p>Equius doesn't do more than cast a dubious look at the brag; this guy would either prove it or embarrass himself, and he doesn't care which. He <em>does</em> curl his lip at Dirk's next question, though. "Why would I ever let an inexperienced rider anywhere near a horse that bites? It would stress out the horse, and I don't want the owner to get sued."</p><p>John, a decent distance away but not far enough that he can't hear, grabs Dirk's attention, then exaggeratedly mouths <em>'rich bitch'</em> when Equius is looking away.</p><p>"I am going to show you how to get a horse ready to ride with Maplehoof, and then you'll repeat the process yourself with Snow. Now, introduce yourself to her. Let Maplehoof get to know you."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk resists the urge to smirk at John's comment, just giving him a Look before turning back to Equius. "I was only asking you a question."</p><p>The response was the verbal equivalent of a shoulder shrug. John wasn't lying about his attitude. Did he really think that Dirk had more shit in common with this guy than a love for horses?</p><p>"Introduce myself." He repeats, but he was looking at Maplehoof.</p><p>It felt a little ridiculous to talk to a pony (in front of someone else, at least) but Dirk was nothing if not a stickler for proper technique. So Dirk crouched in front of Maplehoof, still resisting the urge to pet her just yet. She'd sniffed his hand, but that was a far cry from being comfortable with a stranger, even if she was friendly.</p><p>"Hi Maplehoof. I'm Dirk."</p><p> </p><p>"It wasn't a very well-thought-out question." He watches the careful way Dirk speaks to her, making himself smaller so she can be more comfortable, and Equius approves. "Good. If she doesn't shy away from your hand when you try, you can pet her."</p><p>He lifts her reins, giving them a moment. "Keep speaking with her. Keep her comfortable and walk with her." He unlatches the gate, pulling it open and gently guiding the pony out and into a more open area. "I'm going to show you how to ready a saddle, but first I want you to brush her. There are treats up in that cabinet." He made sure to bring along some fresh produce just for the lesson.</p><p>So far it was about as clinical as any riding lesson starts out. Equius kind of hopes something interesting will happen, because otherwise he's doing all this for nothing.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk thinly resists the urge to argue with Equius about why his question was completely valid, but he could bicker with this tool later. He had a pony to pet. Dirk follows after her and rests his hand on top of Maplehoof's head, petting her gently between her ears. Gradually his hand trails down her snout to scritch under her chin, all the while making sure she didn't seem to be showing any signs of discomfort as he murmured quietly to her. If anything though, she just blinked at him, occasionally snorting and not seeming to mind.</p><p>Once he'd gotten his fair share of petting in, Dirk followed Equius' direction to the cabinet to gather up some fresh treats and a brush for her mane.</p><p>"Any tips for me? Or, would you classify that as another addition to the series of my astoundingly inept questions, and tell me the answer is to brush the pony?" Dirk says, the snark not really concealed even despite his words lacking any bite to them.</p><p> </p><p>Equius is interrupted from his preparation of Maplehoof's custom saddle by an ungrateful Dirk. He darts an angry glance over to John, who sits up a little straighter and glances between them, a mix of nervousness and an expression that looks a little like he's hoping for some drama stretching across his face. He aims a more questioning look at Dirk as Equius sets the saddle back down and steps closer.</p><p>"Ah. You seem to have a problem with my teaching methods. The methods I am currently speeding through and only focusing on what is important for you, entirely for free and where I gain nothing but getting a tenacious fool off my back. Is that what you're having an issue with?"</p><p>Bite or no, Equius isn't having it. He doesn't get close enough to seem a threat, and he stays even further from the pony, because upsetting her with his tension would make him feel terrible. But he still pulls himself to his full height and curls his fingers.</p><p>"Maybe you should just brush the darn pony." After a few seconds of pulling back his frustration with a couple breathing exercises, Equius sweeps a hand over her back. "Focus mostly where the saddle will rest, and across her belly for the strap. It can be uncomfortable to trap any dirt between the saddle and her pelt before riding. I've already taken care of both their hooves, and that isn't exactly something we teach casual riders anyway. Use the soft bristle brush if you want to do her legs or head, and be careful around bony areas. Her mane and tail don't need much attention because she already gets a lot of it, but Snow might appreciate it."</p><p>Equius returns to the saddle, shooting a haughty, "Enough <em>tips</em> for you?" over his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Jesus he was touchy. Sometimes Dirk forgets that people don't always understand when he's just joking. Though, he couldn't say he was that upset about Equius getting angry. He had started it when he tried to make Dirk feel dumb for asking about the biting thing.</p><p>"I do have an issue with it." Dirk stated cooly, crouching down again as he starts to brush Maplehoof properly, focusing on her back and legs. He didn't need to square off with this jerk to make his point, especially not when he could be squaring off with the dirt on a pony instead.</p><p>"Do you try to make all of your students feel stupid for askin' questions, or am I just that lucky?" Dirk glances up at him from behind his shades, quirking a brow.</p><p> </p><p>Once again he's pulled from his work with a frown. Equius turns, scowls at Dirk, but he's gotten what he needed off his chest for now, and it's a little easier to keep the lid on his temper.</p><p>"You aren't a student. You're the result of a favor. Not even that, because I'm sure it would be ridiculous to expect him to ever pay me back." John perks up as Equius gestures toward him, but the larger man isn't as heated, so his voice doesn't carry.</p><p>"So, if you don't mind, maybe you could show a little respect. Remember we have to sit together. Or would you rather just take the lazy way and sit on a horse for a few minutes before leaving my stable?"</p><p> </p><p>"Right. I forgot that because I'm not paying to be here, that means you're entitled to treat me like the shit you were shoveling before we got here. Do you think you could ever forgive me?" Dirk asks, dropping his eyes from Equius to keep brushing Maplehoof. Luckily, she didn't seem to notice the thick tension surrounding her, or Dirk might have actually felt guilty.</p><p>"Respect is earned, homie."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know you, and I don't owe you anything more than I give everyone else. Do you think I'm singling you out because you're here for free? Do you think I care about the spoiled idiots who come here for lessons to show off? I treat them exactly the same. The only riders I bother to be gentle with are children. Do you want me to treat you like a <em>child</em>? Because I can arrange that."</p><p>He feels the situation spiraling, so Equius gives up on the finer details of readying the saddle because they'd just take it off her in a minute anyway. He points to a soft pink padded rectangle. "Take her saddle pad and place it over her back. Make sure it's even."</p><p> </p><p>"I think it would be in everyone's best interest if you just tell me what to do and drop the haughty bullshit, Zahhak," Dirk says it curtly before he stands up, walking over to grab the saddle pad. He was gentle with Maplehoof, placing it carefully onto her back and smoothing it out.</p><p>"Because I'm not going to let you talk down to me like I'm a dumbass."</p><p> </p><p>His jaw flexes as Equius quite literally bites down some sharp words. There's a young horse in a nearby stall getting anxious, and the last thing he wants to do is upset anyone. Anyone that mattered to him, at least. So he works his chin, feeling the joints pop from the stress, and reins in his emotion. Fine.</p><p>"Higher on her back." Once it's positioned properly, Equius carries over the small saddle. He'd planned on explaining his process as he did it, tightening the straps, walking around her body to make sure it was centered, explaining the height of the hoops, but he's lost enthusiasm for this lesson.</p><p>He finishes, gestures like a TV presenter, opens his mouth, shuts it with a clack, and then works on undoing everything so he can get ready to take Maplehoof back to her stall. "Now do the same with Snow." Again, his mouth hangs open as he struggles to keep from adding anything other than what's necessary. Equius finishes with, "I'll take you on one circuit of the field when you finish."</p><p> </p><p>Now he was playing nice. Dirk watched Equius carefully as he put the saddle on Maplehoof, noting the positioning and the tightness of the straps even without his instruction. He got the gist of the proper technique.</p><p>He pets Maplehoof one more time before she can be taken away, sort of wishing that he would have had the chance to spend some time alone with her. Maybe he could have braided her mane, or something. But instead, he was going through horse boot camp with Captain Tightass over here.</p><p>It would have been nice if John could have been involved, too.</p><p>Dirk gives Equius a brief nod as he starts for the stall at the end of the stable where Snow was, resisting the urge to fall all over himself thanking Equius for his attentive and superior advice, just to get under his skin. They were dropping it.</p><p>Only horses now.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully they seemed to come to an agreement. Only speak for necessary information. Once Maplehoof is brought to her stall and given a treat for just existing, Equius follows Dirk down to the end of the row. He doesn't say anything, just stands with his arms crossed over his chest, watching.</p><p>Snow was well-behaved, even if she wasn't a fan of people. She just preferred solitude. Equius could understand that. The mare extends her neck, bending down to examine Dirk as he approaches, and Equius waits. He'd correct anything that might need correcting, but otherwise he considered this a test.</p><p> </p><p>"Hello Ms. Snow." Dirk speaks softly to the mare as she leans to examine him, offering his hand for her to sniff. He takes extra care with her to be patient as she tries to decide if she's comfortable with him or not - not making any sudden movements and continuing to talk so she could get used to the sound of his voice - but he was getting excited again. She was a beautiful (and <em>huge,</em> fuck, he'd never been this close to a real horse before) creature.</p><p>"My name is Dirk. I've heard you're wary of people. Is that true?"</p><p> </p><p>The horse snorts, billowing hot air over his hand. She doesn't shy away, but makes no move to examine him more closely. Equius, forgetting he really doesn't like this guy because he likes this horse, breaks his stony silence. "Stroke her mane, but try not to touch her throat. It makes her nervous."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay," Dirk says, because it seems like he's forgotten that they weren't talking to each other too, in favor of paying attention to the horse.</p><p>He reaches out to pet Snow's mane, carefully avoiding getting too close to her throat. The hair was thick and surprisingly soft, for what it was. It was different than human hair, but he'd always expected a horse's mane to be coarser.</p><p> </p><p>She shakes her broad head and bends to sniff at him again, ears angled forward. It's positive body language, and Equius sidesteps a bit, clearing a path. "Do you want to bring her out? She knows where to go, just keep a firm hold on her reins." So much for trying to test him. </p><p>Equius moves back over to where they were before, alert and close enough that if something went wrong he could step in, but that wasn't typically an issue with Snow.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt his pulse pick up a little speed as Snow checked him out, but everything he'd read was indicating that she wasn't afraid of him. He couldn't help but smile when he saw her ears tilt forward, and he gently pet her snout.</p><p>"Yeah, sure. I can do that." Dirk says, still speaking softly, as if talking too loud would ruin the trust he'd started to build with Snow. He takes hold of her reins to guide her out of the stall, giving her space to pass him. "Come on, girl."</p><p> </p><p>It takes her a moment to start moving, clearly not expecting someone new to guide her around like this, but eventually she steps out of her stall and, like he said, made her way down the aisle as though she were on a track of some sort.</p><p>Reassured of her comfort, Equius sits on a small stool, waiting for Dirk to do what he was supposed to.</p><p>Meanwhile, despite telling himself he'd wait for permission from Dirk, John has his phone out, filming.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk didn't see John at first, too busy making sure Snow was comfortable being lead out. She didn't seem to mind much after the initial confusion, and they made it out without much hassle. Eventually though, Dirk does spot John when he goes to grab the brush, taking a second or two to flip off the camera despite the smile on his face.</p><p>He brushes Snow's back first, like Equius had indicated was important, before moving to her mane, which he'd mentioned that she enjoyed, all while keeping a quiet monologue going with her that wasn't audible to anyone else.</p><p> </p><p>John laughs quietly from the bench, but keeps up the filming. There's a split second where he considers video-calling Dave so he could see how happy his brother looked, but he decides sending all the clips and eventual pictures to Dirk only would be better. That way he could decide who sees it.</p><p>Equius leans back, stool creaking beneath his weight. Dirk was doing fine, and he figures he'd really only be needed for the saddle, so he uses the moment to take a little break.</p><p>Snow herself, while not an excitable horse, shows her enjoyment in her own way. She lips at his sleeve when his arm is close enough, then butts his shoulder gently. Equius calls out, "You forgot the treats."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was having a lot of fun taking care of Snow, and based on her playful lipping and nudging with her head, she was enjoying herself too. He almost didn't hear Equius, his one sided conversation with Snow drawing all of his focus.</p><p>"Fuck, I did, didn't I? You're probably wondering what I'm doing wasting time, aren't you?" Dirk asks the horse, but it wasn't exactly clear who he was talking to considering he was suddenly looking around for where he'd set the treats earlier. He leads her over to where he'd left them, offering her a carrot. "Sorry girl."</p><p> </p><p>It's the attention she's looking for; she paws at the straw-covered floor almost daintily as she eats, taking the carrot from his hand once she's bitten it down low enough. When she's satisfied, she nudges his head with her muzzle. His hair is her next target of interest as she flattens it with her nose.</p><p>John mutters, in the background, <em>"Oh god, please try to eat it,"</em> to which Equius insists a firm "No," because that was a lot of product.</p><p> </p><p>"John fuck off, I heard that." Dirk says with a chuckle, loud enough for John to hear, but not enough that it was a shout. He was <em>not</em> about to blow this with Snow by hollering across the pasture. He ducks away from her prodding nose, but still pets her snout even though she was being a little rude.</p><p>"My hair isn't hay, Snow. You're gonna get sick." He says, as if she could understand him. He grabs another carrot, offering it to her instead. "You want this instead? Just one more, yeah?"</p><p> </p><p>John mumbles more, quietly gushing about how <em>fucking cute</em> he was and totally forgetting the camera. The mare is happily lured from her interest in his hair with the second carrot, and this time she tugs the whole thing from his hand, holding it in place as she chews.</p><p>Equius stands, pads over to the selection of grooming items, and picks up a spritz bottle. "When you're finished, use this. It's a sunscreen and a lotion. Try not to get too much where the saddle pad will sit, or it can get slippery."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't flinch when Snow takes the whole thing from him, but he does smirk at her, petting between her ears. "Alright, easy. I know you like those, but you almost took my hand off, girl."</p><p>Dirk spares Equius just a long enough glance to grab the spray bottle, misting Snow down, circling her to make sure he gets both sides. He's careful only to go over her back once though, mindful of the slipperiness.</p><p>He was murmuring to her again as he finished up, grabbing the saddle pad to drape it over her back.</p><p> </p><p>The horse jolts just once at the sound of the first spray, but she grows accustomed quickly. There's another little bout of muttering from John's bench, mostly unheard, but Equius picks up the words <em>'dork'</em> and <em>'sweet'</em> on his way over to pick up Snow's much larger and heavier saddle. Once it's placed, he appraises the other man again.</p><p>"Do you think you can belt it down?" There isn't really anything he could do that isn't correctable, other than pull it too tight, and he doesn't believe that would be something to worry about with Dirk.</p><p> </p><p>"I was watching you do it. Just correct me if I'm wrong." Dirk leans to work on strapping the saddle in place, securing it carefully so it wasn't too snug or too loose, and watching Snow mindfully just in case she didn't like anything. He circled around her to check the other side too, before glancing over to Equius for approval.</p><p>"Is that right?"</p><p> </p><p>She's used to this, and takes it easily, finishing the last bit of her carrot just as Dirk finishes the saddle. And to his credit he does it in the proper order. Equius nods and holds up a finger, tightening the front cinch strap just a little more. "You want to be sure the hoop is above the horse's shoulder, for their comfort."</p><p>He strokes a broad hand down the back of Snow's neck. "Are you ready, then?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk nods in understanding, petting Snow's snout again now that she was all set. He didn't feel as much animosity towards Equius now that they'd mostly limited their conversation, so he wasn't worried about getting on the horse with him.</p><p>"I'm ready."</p><p> </p><p>He takes hold of her, guiding Snow to the gates. "Do you think you'll need something to stand on? She's a big horse. And you'll need to get up first if you'll be sitting in the front."</p><p>John ends the video to start a new one, standing to follow. He wanted a good angle of this.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't think so." Dirk waits for Snow to settle before he puts his foot in the stirrup, briefly being grateful for his long legs as he braces himself on the saddle. He'd watched a frankly embarrassing amount of horse care videos, so he was well versed in the process of climbing onto a horse. He bounces a few times on the foot still on the ground before he sprung up, and swung his leg over Snow to straddle her saddle.</p><p>It was surprisingly smooth for a first try, and he'd always sort of expected himself to trip, or stumble off the stirrup. He allowed himself to feel a little confident, reveling briefly in the glory of being a showoff.</p><p> </p><p>Equius acknowledges him with a nod, petting over Snow's flanks for a moment longer before swinging up behind Dirk. Despite all his issues with human contact, this still felt natural. He rests a steadying hand on Dirk's back before nudging Snow forward. </p><p>"Keep your back straight and stay centered on the saddle. When she speeds up, move with her."</p><p>John's hanging in the back now, switched over to pictures.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt the weird shiver that always came with anyone touching him from behind, but still followed Equius' instructions unwaveringly. He held the reins a little tighter, feeling his pulse start to pick up again as Snow moved.</p><p>Once he realized he wasn't immediately going to go hurtling towards a concussion though, he relaxed his grip a bit, and leaned a little forward as Snow started to trot.</p><p>It was admittedly pretty uncomfortable to ride, but the experience was so fucking worth it. He was riding a <em>horse</em> right now. How could he complain?</p><p> </p><p>He still felt as though they've skipped a lot of steps to get here so quickly - and some of them were safety steps - but now that they were on the horse Equius could relax. All he had to do was keep Dirk from falling or doing anything too foolish.</p><p>"When you're ready, you can urge her into a canter, but no more."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk nodded to let Equius know that he'd heard him, and rode Snow at the comfortable trot for a little longer. He was internally still a little nervous about falling off, especially when he nudged Snow to pick up her speed, but he didn't let it show on his face. </p><p>He looked surprisingly stoic despite the fact that he was living the dream right now, but that was only because he was extra focused. Even still, the knit in his brow unwound slightly when Snow picked up into a canter, and nothing went weird.</p><p>Dirk couldn't see John from this angle, but he was sure that he was probably watching - and likely gathering plenty of pictures to use as blackmail.</p><p> </p><p>Equius makes sure he's steady when the mare speeds up, but so far he hasn't had anything to worry about. They ride for a little while before he leans forward to say above the wind, "We'll complete this circuit and go one more before stopping. You can get sore from riding too long on your first go."</p><p>As they come back around, John switches back to video, staring at the screen to keep his aim perfect, zooming in to show Dirk's concentrating expression before panning back out to get the whole scene. He was starting to feel like his dad.</p><p> </p><p>"You don't say," Dirk grouches good-naturedly, because his inner thighs were already sort of starting to hurt. He pets the back of Snow's neck as they ride, spotting John once they'd started to circle back around.</p><p>Dirk immediately feels a little dumb afterwards, but he makes the motion to tip an invisible cowboy hat at John like the bonafide fucking cowboy he felt like in this moment when they pass by him and start on their last lap.</p><p> </p><p>John's face splits, mouth open wide in a grin, and he's so fucking glad he caught that on camera despite his round of loud laughter that followed making his hand shake too much to keep focused. <em>"Nerd!"</em></p><p>When they start to come around again, Equius sits up, holding a hand out and around Dirk without touching him so he can be passed the reins.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk heard John's laughter from behind as they passed him, and it made a matching grin spread over his face. Maybe it was alright to look like a tool if it meant making John laugh like that.</p><p>He was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw Equius' hand reach out for the reins, a little startled that he'd managed to zone out like that while riding Snow. He offers Equius the reins without issue, and murmurs quietly to the horse.</p><p>"Thanks for the ride, girl."</p><p> </p><p>Equius pulls her slowly back over to the gate, letting her gradually lessen the pace at her own discretion. She draws up to it calmly, and once she's at a standstill Equius slips off her back. He steps away, but still holds one hand up out of habit, just in case Dirk needs it.</p><p>John stays on the other side, but he makes sure to be as obvious as possible with the phone. <em>"Hold up, let me just make sure the framing is perfect for when you fall."</em></p><p> </p><p>"Fuck off, Egbert. You'd need a ladder to even get up here." Dirk quips, not really wanting to take Equius' hand to get down, but he <em>really</em> didn't want to fall now. So he uses Equius' hand for balance just long enough to hop off, and turns his attention back to Snow, even though his eyes were on John.</p><p>"Do you want to pet her?" Dirk asks, stroking Snow's snout.</p><p> </p><p>John laughs, not at all bothered by the jab. Equius seems to share Dirk's sentiment; the moment he no longer needs his support, he drops his hand and steps around Snow's other side, getting ready to take her back inside.</p><p>John doesn't look too convinced by the offer; this was a <em>big</em> animal. He leans over the fence, letting it support his weight as he considers, still aiming his phone at Dirk. <em>"I dunno, man. You two've got that special bond, I'd hate to come between that."</em></p><p> </p><p>"How thoughtful of you." Dirk had been playing with Snow's mane with his fingers, glancing briefly to Equius as he readies her to go back in the stables. He could probably wait a few more minutes while John introduced himself to her.</p><p>"Just let her sniff you, dork."</p><p> </p><p>John still isn't convinced, but how could he say no to Dirk when he looks so content? Unfortunately they're still just a little too far from the fence that John can't reach her easily. He leans against the top bar, arm outstretched but still a little clumsy with his straining.</p><p>Snow eyes this second new person, but like earlier with Dirk, she makes no move to come closer, shows no curiosity. <em>"Can't reach anyway."</em> Equius might be a haughty jerk, but he wouldn't keep anyone from getting the affection they deserve. He doesn't mind waiting, watching to be sure John doesn't do something stupid like try to climb the fence, or stumbling and grabbing at the horse.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk quirks an amused brow at John's straining - even if he could reach, petting her like that wouldn't be satisfying for either party involved. Dirk lets his hand drop from Snow's mane where he'd been twirling the hair between his fingers, looking to Equius and walking closer to John.</p><p>"Can you bring her a little closer?"</p><p> </p><p>Snow, for her part, seems patiently confused as to why she's standing out in front of the gate. Her ears flick, keeping track of the people around her, and Equius (after rolling his eyes) tugs her forward a few paces. John's hand makes contact, and the mare tosses her head gently in surprise.</p><p>He tugs the hand back with a quiet <em>"Sorry,"</em> before letting her sniff properly. When she seems okay with it, John touches the long bridge of her snout.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt himself smiling as he watched John, not touching Snow's mane while John was petting her so as not to potentially overwhelm her. He was a little worried that she would freak out after John had touched her suddenly, but she luckily seemed to calm down after inspecting him.</p><p>"See? It's fine."</p><p> </p><p>He's mostly watching Dirk as he pets her, returning the smile almost without realizing it. But after a few seconds of just resting his hand on her nose, staring at Dirk, Snow wiggles her head curiously and John pulls back with another soft apology. She's getting a little anxious, being out of her stall and surrounded by people, so Equius pulls open the gate to start guiding her back inside.</p><p>"You can do what you want when I get the saddle off her." He didn't care how long they lingered now; he'd played his part, so as far as he was concerned he could just get back to work, ignoring the couple.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk notices John smiling at him, searching his eyes in a moment that felt weirdly private despite there being a horse and Equius standing right there with them. Dirk snaps out of it when John does, huffing a slight laugh at Snow's reaction before stepping back so Equius could get her back inside and unsaddled.</p><p>Instead of following them though, Dirk lingers next to John.</p><p>"Don't think I didn't see you recording a studio length motion picture on the sidelines, dude. Did you send it to anyone?"</p><p> </p><p>Equius disappears into the structure, Snow following behind. She did good today, so he'd be sure to give her extra affection (and food). As soon as she's free of her saddle and topped up on carrots and a large pear, he returns her to her stall for some down time. His head pokes out from the gate, checking that the two were still there. "You can still speak to and pet most of them, but I won't be bringing any others out for you." Equius purses his lips at John. "Now leave me alone," is his final statement, and then he's gone from view.</p><p>John just rolls his eyes and adjusts the way he's leaning against the fence. <em>"Why would I send it to anyone? I haven't even sent them to you yet - signal isn't great out here, and those videos are gonna take a while."</em></p><p> </p><p><em>To show them me losing my shit about horses?</em> Dirk almost asks, before realizing that in all honesty, he didn't think that John would tease him over something like this. He hoped not, anyway. It was an exercise in trust.</p><p>"Fair enough," Dirk relents. He leans his hip against the fence, glancing toward the stable briefly before his attention was back on John. "Did you want to go in? There's a lot more in there that I didn't get to meet, thanks to your tightass neighbor's teaching methods."</p><p> </p><p>"Might have been tempted to show people if you fell, but nah. This is-" 'for you and me,' he doesn't say. "... This is your day, man. I'm just documenting for you." He straightens up so they're not in each other's space before laughing.</p><p>"Oh shit, yeah. Thanks for burning that bridge for me, by the way. He's never gonna talk to me again, I bet." John doesn't look upset about it. "But sure, we can go say hi to everyone else."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk pushes off the fence to start for the stables, actually scoffing a bit at the mention of Equius. Entitled prick. He was good to the horses, and Dirk respected him for that, but he couldn't picture himself ever getting along with him where it counted.</p><p>"He was being a dick, and I wasn't going to let him talk to me like that. So you're welcome for fucking that up for you."</p><p> </p><p>John's smile grows, and he looks almost wry for a minute. "... Uh huh. Sure, man." John follows behind, thumbing through the pictures he took. "I think maybe you both just take yourselves too seriously." He's deliberately not looking at Dirk as he says this, feigning interest in a picture of Dirk's back that didn't really have much going for it.</p><p>"Did he tell you which horses bit?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk looks back, instinctively responding with a: "No. He was being a dick. Don't compare me to him, dude." before realizing that maybe he'd just proven John's point. Whatever. They <em>weren't</em> alike. He knew that John wasn't looking at him on purpose, so he lightly smacks the back of John's phone, making it jump in his hands.</p><p>"He didn't tell me. If I asked, he probably would have called me an idiot."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, yeah, you got it, dude. Whatever you say." John bites down on his lower lip, just starting to turn towards Dirk to most likely make a face at him before he yelps and has to struggle to keep his phone in his hands. "Oh my god, I coulda dropped that in horse shit. You'd owe me a new phone, Dirk!"</p><p>John retaliates with two knuckles digging into his spine, right above his waistband. "I guess that means we shouldn't pet all of them, then."</p><p> </p><p>"But you didn't drop it, did you?"</p><p>Dirk jumps a bit when John jabs at him, turning back to him and instinctively going for his sides. He didn't actually know if John was ticklish, but just a few pokes always worked on Dave, so it was probably a pretty safe bet.</p><p> </p><p>Almost as though it heard the jinx and tried to rebel, the phone shakes dangerously in John's hand as he unsuccessfully (due to surprise) tries to jerk his elbows down to block the touch. John shoots a shocked and scandalized look at his friend, because this was absolutely not something he'd ever expect from Dirk Strider.</p><p>He takes a few skipping steps back and away from the other man, still holding that affronted expression. A sound that could be summed up as "?!" bursts from his throat.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt himself struggling to hide a grin, and it wasn't very successful. John was looking at him completely flabbergasted, totally unexpecting the attack, and it was admittedly a pretty funny sight. There was a moment where he didn't move, at a standstill as he watched John skitter away from him.</p><p>Oh, he couldn't just let this slide <em>that</em> easily.</p><p>Dirk was on him again in just a few seconds time, getting at his sides to tickle him with a hell of a lot more intensity.</p><p> </p><p>After the third time in just a minute where his phone wobbles threateningly in his grip, John tucks it into his back pocket so he can have both hands free to try and slap the attack away. His affronted expression morphs into a more fearful one, and John yells "What the <em>shit</em>," before turning tail and sprinting back the way they came, along the fence and away from the stable.</p><p>The situation is so absurd that he starts laughing, but the very next thought he has as he runs is <em>'Dirk is faster than I am.'</em></p><p> </p><p>Dirk's thinly repressed grin spread over his face as John started to run from him, and he immediately gave chase. It didn't take him long to catch up, lunging onto John from behind and winding his arms tightly around him. If John were anyone else, he might have gone as far as to pick him up - but John easily could have overpowered him like that.</p><p>Instead, Dirk holds him snugly in place, resuming his attack on John's weak spot.</p><p> </p><p>John shouts as he's grabbed, and his feet skid over the ground as he tries to keep his momentum and jerk himself out of the grip, but once again he forgets just how strong Dirk actually is. "Oh my <em>god</em>, Dirk!" He wiggles and grabs the fence post beside them, doing whatever he can to get free as he smacks at Dirk's arm and hands.</p><p>His laughter makes him snort, and John uses his next advantage: he bends his knees suddenly, trying to be as short as possible. Maybe he can pull free or mess up Dirk's balance.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk accounts for John's attempt to duck out of his hold, hooking one of his arms under John's and shifting the other to wrap around his chest instead.</p><p>"Don't work like that, bro." Dirk says, the smile on his face showing through his voice. He hefts John up and shifts his stance, twisting one of John's arms behind him (<em>gently</em>) and pressing it to his back to incapacitate him a little better. It was sort of difficult to keep John still and also tickle him, but he managed to slide the arm around John down to wrap around his stomach, so he could still get at him with one hand.</p><p>"Gotta tap out."</p><p> </p><p>John keens, a low defeated sound amidst the giggles, but he doesn't stop struggling even as his arm is twisted back. He's not fighting as hard as he could, obviously - no reason to turn a tickle fight into something where someone could get hurt - but this just means it's even more difficult.</p><p>"Y-yeah? Wanna see how good you'd be at beating Equius? Or am I tapping out with one of the horses?" John jerks his hips back sharply, trying to push him away and twist in his grip so he can face Dirk and have a bit of an easier time breaking free.</p><p> </p><p>"You know what I meant, Egbert." Dirk jerks back in sync with John, mainly in the interest of protecting his dick from getting bricked by John's ass, (Jesus <em>Christ</em> what did he just think) but in the process, his grip on John weakens.</p><p>John was turning to face him at this point, and since there was no real way to restrain him and tickle him from the front, Dirk lets go. His only chance here was hoping John was weak enough from the tickling to give in.</p><p> </p><p>The moment his arm is released, John reaches back and gropes at Dirk's belly, still only partially turned toward him. "What, you want me to say uncle or something? Fat chance!" He finally manages to twist fully in Dirk's grip, smacking his head down on his shoulder while simultaneously trying to grab his wrists and wiggle his fingers over the taller man's sides.</p><p>He doesn't have many options here, and he doesn't want to push too hard or get too lost in the fun (if anyone truly considered getting tickled <em>fun</em>) that he might miss a signal from Dirk that he's taking it too far. But he also doesn't wanna just give in.</p><p>"I can't believe you've betrayed me like this, Dirk!"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was already on the verge of laughter just from tickling John, but he can't help but let it burst out of him when John retaliates. He grabs at John's forearms, trying to push him away, but he was useless when he was being tickled - it was like his motor skills shut completely down.</p><p>"You started it!"</p><p> </p><p>It's as though a switch is flipped as soon as the laughter bubbles out of him. John's eyes shoot wide, and he almost loses his advantage before going on the offensive. "You're lying!" He steps closer and wiggles his fingers across Dirk's belly and beneath his ribs.</p><p>"You started this, you big jerk!"</p><p> </p><p>"No I-- hah, <em>fuck</em>, I didn't! You jabbed me <em>intheback!</em>" Dirk's last words come out in a breathless rush as he gasps for air through his laughter, his grip weak and his brain stupid as he tries to fight off John's fingers.</p><p>He usually <em>never</em> let anyone even get close enough to tickle him, and he had a feeling somewhere in the back of his mind that he would end up being really embarrassed about how vulnerable he was being with John today. It was uncharacteristic, and it made Dirk feel a little uncomfortable, but... it was also kind of nice to let someone in.</p><p>He could pretend this never happened later.</p><p> </p><p>John's own laughter was more of a lilted panting by now as well, and he twists his head on Dirk's shoulder as he catches his breath and comes down. For someone who constantly surprises John with his strength, Dirk was pretty flimsy right now.</p><p>"That's not the same thing <em>at all!</em> You almost made me drop my phone anyway, which still counts as starting it!" His fingers curl around one of Dirk's wrists, lifting the arm up and out of the way as he tries to tickle him a bit higher on his side. He's slowing down now, catching his breath and enjoying the close moment as his adrenaline wears off.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was able to breathe a little easier as John stopped tickling him as relentlessly, managing to gather enough strength to grab at John's wrist with his still free hand, and pull it away. It was a little rough - but Dirk couldn't exactly control himself very well right now with weak knees and nearly useless hands.</p><p>"Okay, okay, fuck!" Dirk pants heavily, his face red and eyes a little watery from all the action.</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't fight it this time, giving up the attack when Dirk pulls his arm away. He also doesn't lift his head, slumping into Dirk as he catches his breath. What a weird moment.</p><p>"One hundred percent. <em>Your fault.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk pants softly, still holding John's wrist gently as he leans against him, a few stray chuckles spilling from his mouth. He wasn't sure what came over him, getting so playful with John. Dirk was sure that John probably thought it was weird, though.</p><p>"Sorry." Dirk says. "That was a lot."</p><p> </p><p>"It was fucking unexpected, but it wasn't a lot, man." John mirrors the little bout of laughter. "It was fun." The haze clears from his mind, and all at once John realizes just how close they are to one another. He straightens up, almost steps away, but Dirk was still coming down so he laughs an awkward little laugh, clearly different from just a few seconds before, and looks out at the pasture.</p><p>"... Wanna see some of the pictures? Or do you wanna wait until I can send everything over."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't seem to notice the awkward laugh that John lets out, taking a couple more seconds to get a hold of himself before he pulls away. He realizes that he's still holding on to John's wrist, and lamely lets his hand drop. There was something buzzing between them that Dirk just didn't know how to address, so instead, he pushes past it and answers the question instead. He clears his throat.</p><p>"...Yeah, sure. Let's see them."</p><p> </p><p>Despite his nervousness, John can still feel the corners of his mouth tugging up in the hint of a smile, not letting go of that good feeling completely just yet. He doesn't look up at his face though, worried that he might see something that'll make him totally useless.</p><p>"Cool. Just don't make me almost drop it this time, jerk." He wipes sweaty palms on the sides of his jeans before pulling the phone out of his pocket and opening the gallery. There are pictures of him talking to Maplehoof, feeding Snow, riding, pretty much every moment John wasn't filming.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk leans a bit closer to combat the glare coming from the sun, looking at each picture and feeling sort of weird about them all in the same way he always did, (<em>Do I really look like that when I smile? Ugh.</em>) but the riding pictures were admittedly pretty cool. John kept scrolling through the pictures for just long enough that Dirk was a little bit overwhelmed, an amused expression on his face.</p><p>"How many pictures did you take, John? Jesus."</p><p> </p><p>He feels the red in his face spread up to his ears and even though he knows Dirk is just playing, he can't help but be a little embarrassed. "Look, it was a big day! I wanted to make sure you were covered if you ever wanted to scrapbook it."</p><p>He stops to laugh, hesitating on a picture of Dirk riding Snow, looking toward the camera. "I guess at this point though, I could have just filmed the entire thing, huh. This is basically stop-motion."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk huffs a laugh, seeing John's embarrassment spread across his face. It was cute. Objectively, platonically, <em>cute</em>. He leans back from the phone a bit, not expecting to see much that he hadn't already seen in the photo gallery in particular.</p><p>"You took videos too, didn't you?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. Just two, but they're pretty long. You can watch them later though." John smirks, shaking himself out of his bashfulness and putting his phone away. "I don't know how much longer Equius is gonna let us hang out, so you better introduce yourself to the rest of the horses. I'll send the videos and all the pictures when I get home."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk actually agrees that they should probably get a move on if they wanted to see the horses. He wasn't eager to spend any more time around Equius than he had to, really, but the horses were worth it. Even if he could feel himself occasionally being stared at if he and John got too rowdy in the stables.</p><p>Dirk introduces himself to each and every horse (yes, even the biters!) with caution and care, and surprisingly only ends up getting chomped at twice. Luckily neither of them managed to catch his hand, or John's, for that matter. All in all, Dirk was honestly having the time of his fucking life. And it was all thanks to John. He didn't think that he could have thanked him enough if he tried.</p><p>Though, maybe the way he'd been acting today spoke for itself. He couldn't help it, in all honesty. He was just... really, <em>really</em> happy, and appreciative of his friend.</p><p>Once they were done in the stables and Dirk offered <em>extensive</em> displays of gratitude to Equius for his extensive and through horse knowledge, and superior teaching skills, he knocked off his mud covered boots before getting into John's car.</p><p>"Make sure you keep your doors locked. Pretty sure that guy was about one breathing exercise from trying to knock my lights out."</p><p> </p><p>John, of course, was charmed by all the horses, but even more charmed by how Dirk spoke with them. Though, after that first one took a swipe at him, his enthusiasm was little dimmed. He stays at Dirk's hip the entire time, just a step away from slipping his arm around his friend's waist, barely managing to resist.</p><p>Dirk's demeanor, so open and pleased, was still a little overwhelming for John's dumb heart, but it was also contagious, and when he almost drops his phone into a horse's stall when trying to get a picture of the three of them together, he barely panics. It was nice to just enjoy his time with his friend.</p><p>When they're both in the car and buckled in, John laughs. "Oh my god, I thought he was gonna bite through his tongue or something, his jaw was so tight. You're gonna get me thrown through a wall or something, goddamn!"</p><p>He cranes his neck to try and spot Equius still in the stable before smiling over at Dirk for the millionth time today. Until he drops the smile, staring across the center console seriously. "... Hey."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk snorts, buckling up his seat belt before settling in the passenger seat, following John's gaze towards the stable where Equius was probably still working to clean up. "He's more upset with me than you, don't worry. Pretty sure that's always been the case, even from the beginning when he caught me riding your back."</p><p>He was about to let the topic drop off into comfortable silence, starting to take out his phone from his pocket to shoot a text to Dave, when he heard John's tone shift to something more serious. Dirk looks across the center console at him, and the expression on his face had Dirk's brows quirking up, intrigued.</p><p>"...Hey. What's up?"</p><p> </p><p>John just looks at him for a moment, holding his gaze with a stoic, contemplative expression. His hand lifts slowly from where it rests on the glove compartment, but unfortunately that's where his composure breaks, and John snickers as he tips an imaginary hat at Dirk, mimicking his earlier gesture.</p><p>"Yee haw." He turns the key in the ignition with a laugh, turning the car around to start their way back.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk could feel his pulse starting to pick up a little as John stared at him, his brows knitting just slightly in confusion the longer he went without saying anything. He was just about to ask what was wrong one more time before John moved, flicked up his imaginary hat brim, and Dirk rolled his eyes.</p><p>He punched John in the shoulder none too gently, but not enough to hurt, leaning back in his seat to stretch out his sore legs.</p><p>"Just drive, cowboy."</p><p> </p><p>John laughs to the point of snorting again, and like a responsible driver he waits until it subsides, one hand squeezing his shoulder, before taking his foot off the brake and continuing. </p><p>"What? I couldn't let that one go, dude. So where are we headed?" He'd kind of like keeping this day going, but it looked like Dirk was a little achy, so it'd be understandable if he just wanted to go home.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk laughs through his nose, idly rubbing at his thigh with a knuckle to try and soothe some of the soreness setting in. It didn't really hit him until he was walking around afterwards, but he would definitely be feeling it for at least a day or so.</p><p>"I was thinking we could get dinner and go back to your place. Specifically, that I could buy you dinner. You went through a lot of trouble to bring me here. It's the least I can do."</p><p> </p><p>The motion catches John's attention, and he glances out of the corner of his eye, at first pitying Dirk. But the he starts to find himself thinking less of Dirk's aches and more of Dirk's thighs, and John tightens his grip on the wheel, staring out the windshield with a new intensity. <em>Best to nip that train of thought in the bud.</em></p><p>"Oh, come on Dirk, you don't have to buy me anything. It wasn't that big a deal on my end. And I had a nice time! What are you hungry for?" It's kind of nice that he wants to spend more time together though, instead of going home to recover.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk remembered that he'd been planning to send a text to Dave, and took out his phone to quickly fill him in on his plans to get home later on tonight. He doubted Dave had even noticed that he left though; Since Karkat was over, he tended to monopolize Dave's attention. Not that he minded. Dave was happy.</p><p>Once the message went through, Dirk pulled up his GPS to search for restaurants.</p><p>"I don't have to do anything. But I'm buying. It's not an option, bro." Dirk says it very matter of factly, leaving no room for argument. "I remember some Italian joint from that allergy website I researched a while back. In the mood for pasta?"</p><p> </p><p>John upholds his grumbling for a good few seconds, out of principle alone, but he <em>was</em> pretty hungry and he figures Dirk would buy him something even if he said no. "<em>Yeah</em>, okay. But you gotta stop spending money on me, man."</p><p>They get back to the highway and while John waits for an opportunity to merge, he glances up at his friend. "Want me to pick up some ice or something? Heat pads? You've gotta be sore."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk ignores John's protest in favor of looking up the Italian restaurant to order online. It wasn't too far from John's place, so they'd likely have enough time to put in the order and pick it up as soon as it's done.</p><p>"No, I'll be fine. It'll wear off in the morning." Dirk glances up from his phone to meet John's eyes, realizing all at once when he saw the blue of John's eyes unobstructed that his shades were still in the cupholder, and had been all day. He didn't feel the need to put them back on at this point. "Thanks, though. What do you want to eat?"</p><p> </p><p>"That's definitely not just gonna 'wear off in the morning', Dirk." He does his best to pitch his voice to match the way Dirk said it, but it comes off as goofy even to his ears. "That's gonna last a few days minimum, I bet." He knows what he could offer, but nah, no reason to make the situation awkward. </p><p>"So do you want ice or heat? And uhhh, I don't care, something with a tomato-based sauce. And a lot of breadsticks. I want some carbs, dude." He finally has the chance to merge, so his eyes fall back on the road.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's brows raise when John mimics the way he'd spoken, and makes a noise that sounds something like a cross between a scoff and a laugh - incredulous, almost. Dork. Though, he knew John well enough that he wouldn't be able to strongarm his way out of getting cared for. So, he just gave him an answer.</p><p>"If you're making me choose? Heat. But I'm fine, dude. I'm more focused on ordering Italian food, which, for the record, requires you to be a little more specific than vaguely agreeing to half of their menu." Dirk almost scrolls past the appetizers before remembering John's bread request. "So, what will it be? Spaghetti, Pizza, Ravioli?"</p><p>That... pretty much summed up Dirk's knowledge of Italian food.</p><p> </p><p>Heat. Of course. He has a freezer full of ice, and nothing at home other than an old electric blanket for heat. That, or some ointment. Which only brings his thoughts back to earlier. "You can take a hot bath at my place if you want. I don't think I have any of those grain pillows. There's muscle rub too."</p><p>Options offered, John considers the ones <em>he'd</em> been given. "What, no lasagna? Damn. If they don't have like a family size dish of lasagna with meat, then I <em>guess</em> pizza will have to do. Not feeling the other choices."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk <em>loved</em> hot baths. But, he didn't think it would be the best move for him as a guest to use all of John's hot water, and get lightheaded for the rest of the night thanks to a minor heatstroke from being simmered alive.</p><p>"That's okay. I can just put a heating pad between my thighs, if you have one." Dirk scrolls through the menu, finding a lasagna with red meat sauce for John, and orders a shrimp linguini dish for himself. Once he'd paid and placed the order, he pulls up the restaurant on his GPS, and sets it up on the dash for John to see. "Should be ready by the time we get there."</p><p> </p><p>It takes everything in him to push away the imagery conjured by Dirk saying 'between my thighs'. Fucking <em>stupid</em>. Can't he just have a day where things aren't awkward with his pal? John sighs, a little frustrated with himself, before replying. "I have an electric blanket, but it's older, might not get that warm. Not warm enough to soothe muscle aches, anyway."</p><p>He eyes the map briefly, just enough to get a general idea of where to go, adjusting his mental route accordingly.</p><p>Which wasn't that much considering John only memorized the way there, not back. So the map was a lot more helpful than he'd like to admit. "Cool." He drums his fingertips on the wheel for a minute before continuing. "Dave know where you've been yet?" He figured Dirk might have been excited enough to text his brother about it.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk hears John sigh, assuming he was frustrated at his lack of heating pad. It really wasn't that serious - a warm pillow probably could have worked wonders regardless.</p><p>"No. He's with Karkat right now. I'd rather fill him in later." Dirk glances at his phone as he continues, as if looking for a text back that wasn't there. It was sort of surprising to him that John would actually bring Dave up first. That had to be a good sign. "I texted him a few minutes ago to let him know that I'd be home later tonight, though."</p><p> </p><p>There. A painless exchange. John can feel his shoulders relaxing. "... Wanna send him a picture?" John tugs his phone out of his pocket - one of few risky moves he's taken while driving - and passes it over. "You might want to send it to yourself first. Actually, you can start pushing over all the pictures if you want, just wait for the clips."</p><p> </p><p>"I guess I can do that." Dirk takes John's phone, going through the extensive library of pictures he'd taken and sending over the ones that he'd liked. He didn't really see the point in messaging himself the million doubles that John had snapped. Once he had a decent collection of them on his phone, he sent his favorite of him riding Snow to Dave.</p><p>It was under fifteen seconds later that he got a response of '<em>wait what the fuck</em>' from Dave, alongside a litany of others in Dave's <em>n</em>-tuple texting. Dirk smiled at his phone.</p><p>"That got his attention."</p><p> </p><p>The several minutes pass mostly in silence as John follows the map. He enjoys the moment of just sitting with Dirk after a busy day, no need to talk to one another. It's comfortable.</p><p>He smiles, laughs a little and starts to glance over before remembering the drive. "Yeah? Which did you send?" He's burning to ask what Dave said, but knows it might only make him sad. Does he even know he's with John?</p><p> </p><p>"I sent one of me riding Snow. He's flipping his shit." Dirk tells John as he texts back, cutting Dave's rambling short to fill him in on their day together. Dave's response came a little slower, considering the fact that Dirk knew he was holding his phone in his hand, but eventually he texts back.</p><p>"He's saying that it was nice of you to take me out, but he's pissed that he didn't think of it first."</p><p> </p><p>"Heheh, yeah, that <em>should</em> get his attention." John's smile fades just a little bit, and he wonders if maybe Dirk is paraphrasing, because Dave probably thinks he did this for Dirk to manipulate him or something equally nefarious. His fingers tighten and twist around the wheel.</p><p>He also wonders <em>why</em> Dave didn't think of it first. Dirk was his brother. He should have known he'd love this.</p><p>"... Ya snooze, ya lose."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk notices that little pause before John spoke. He knew that talking about Dave was strictly forbidden territory, but he wasn't sure if things would be different since John was the one to bring him up. Maybe Dirk was just overthinking this though, and John was fine with it.</p><p>"...Yeah. We don't have to keep talking about it, though."</p><p> </p><p>He's sure to wait until they reach a street with a red light before looking over and smiling gratefully at Dirk. "Thanks. Baby steps, right? No big deal." John almost takes his hand off the wheel to do something, touch Dirk's arm or whatever, but he holds it in.</p><p>"I'll get over it. What was the estimate for pickup? Map says we're less than ten away."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk returns the smile with a tiny one of his own, knowing he actually made the right choice. Who knew Dirk was capable of making the right move in a social encounter? He'd come a long fucking way.</p><p>After a second or two, he pulls his eyes from John to look back to his phone.</p><p>"Should be ready in about fifteen."</p><p> </p><p>John takes a turn sooner than the map tells him to, watching as the route corrects itself with his new destination in mind. "Cool. I'm gonna swing by the store real quick then, grab a couple things. So we don't just sit and wait in the parking lot."</p><p>It isn't too much of a detour, and he knows he won't be in there long at all. It should be timed well enough. "What're your plans when we get to my place? You gonna take a nap?" He keeps the tone light, even with the little smirk stretching across his face.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't seem to mind the detour, just nodding along and glancing out the window as they make the turn. He starts to ask what John was going to get, only to shut his mouth abruptly when John says the word <em>nap</em>.</p><p>"Shut up." Dirk mutters, feeling his face warm. Admittedly, he was still really embarrassed about that whole thing. At the very least John hadn't carried him to his bed, and saved him <em>that</em> particular humiliation. "I'd prefer if we continued to pretend that never happened."</p><p> </p><p>John laughs gently, not wanting Dirk to think he's mocking him. "Aw, come on. Isn't because you're legitimately uncomfortable, or are you just embarrassed?" </p><p>He pulls into a parking space when they reach the small pharmacy store, putting the car in park but not taking the key out, letting the engine idle as he smiles across the cab. "This'll only take a minute."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk purposefully keeps his eyes on the dash, not willing to look at John when his face was turning pink. "You know the answer to that."</p><p>John was just playing coy. There was no way he didn't know that Dirk was embarrassed after that last day at his apartment - it would have been one thing if he'd fallen asleep at his own place, or after a few days worth of insomnia. But falling asleep in <em>John's apartment</em> after a big meal, and having to be taken care of?</p><p>Mortifying.</p><p>(Even more mortifying, was that he'd actually sort of enjoyed it.)</p><p>"Just go get your stuff."</p><p> </p><p>His lips only pull further into a grin. "Okay, well. If I know the answer to that, then I say it's still free game to tease you about. Are you gonna correct me?" John doesn't wait for an answer, bouncing his eyebrows and pushing the door open. He takes in that sweet flush of Dirk's face before unbuckling his belt, checking for his wallet (his phone was still with Dirk, as far as he knew), and jogging into the store.</p><p>It takes a <em>little more</em> than a minute of him jogging down the aisles, looking for a heating pad, some medicine, other little things to help Dirk feel better, but it hasn't been more than four or five when he's settling back in his seat.</p><p>There's no point pretending it wasn't for Dirk, and he plops the bag in his lap as he buckles again. "Here."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk turns to look at John just as he's climbing out of the car, pursing his lips at him, and watching him until he disappears into the building. He breathes a sigh through his nose, idly rubbing at his cheek and putting John's phone where it rested on his thigh in the cupholder next to his shades. He grabs his own from the dash to pass the few minutes John would be inside in favor of sitting silently with his own thoughts.</p><p>He looked up when John returned, his blush luckily having faded, and accepts the bag without a second thought. Though, that also granted him rummaging privileges. He wasn't exactly expecting to find what he did.</p><p>"<em>John.</em> You didn't need to get all of this for me. I told you that I'm fine."</p><p> </p><p>He huffs a soft little snort as they pull out of the lot, following the new route laid out on the map. "You can't tell me you didn't know that's what I was doing... Though I guess you'd have tried to stop me if you did, huh. Whatever, it's my fault you're hurting, so I owed you. And since I didn't have anything for it at home," his hand waves loosely toward the bag.</p><p>"<em>Whatever</em>, man. You bought the food. Let me do nice things too!"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk breathes a stubborn exhale, closing the bag back up and putting it back down in his lap.</p><p>"Egbert, as pathetic as it sounds, you did one of the nicest things that anyone has ever done for me today. You've met your quota. I could have bought them myself, if I needed them, which I <em>don't.</em>" He insists firmly, frowning at the bag in his lap and then over at John.</p><p>"You've done more than enough already."</p><p> </p><p>John makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat as he takes them toward the restaurant. His face twists, pinched, as he takes the turn and spies the sign down the street. "There's no fucking quota. It isn't 'one nice thing per week', Dirk. I wanted to do it."</p><p> </p><p>"I know that you wanted to. I'm telling you that you didn't have to." Dirk clarifies, taking his phone from the dash once the restaurant was in sight. He put in John's address, just in case he didn't know how to get back, and sets his phone on his thigh next to the bag. He knows that this particular argument was one they would never reach the end of, considering both of their stubborness on the subject.</p><p>"...Regardless, thank you. I'll take it as permission to buy more shit for you in the future."</p><p> </p><p>That noise in his throat returns, more frustrated. "I'm not doing this stuff to get nice stuff in return, man." But he doesn't try much harder. It was a waste of energy at this point. John thanks him for the map adjustment as he pulls into the lot.</p><p>"I can run in and get it, if you want?"</p><p> </p><p>"I know that you aren't." Dirk says, and it feels like he's talking about more than just the heating pad. John had always been concerned about assuring Dirk that he wasn't trying to do shit for him as some backhanded manipulation tactic. He'd never said it in so many words, but even since the beginning, it was something that Dirk knew as a fact. "I've never thought that you were."</p><p>He looks across the cab at him. "You know that. Right?"</p><p> </p><p>He didn't know if he did. John smiles and shrugs, idling the engine again as he climbs out of the car. No reason to tint today with anything uncomfortable. "Did you pay online already?"</p><p>Deciding it didn't matter whether he did or not, and not giving Dirk the chance to argue, John checks that he's still got his wallet just in case and heads inside for their food. It's a little concerning how easily he can just take the order - really, anyone could come in, peek at the name written in the bag, and say that's them. He distracts himself with this thought so he doesn't think about anything else. Did he believe that Dirk had known that the whole time? ... Not really. And Dave definitely didn't share his brother's beliefs. </p><p>As soon as he's got the food in hand, he heads back out to the car, passing it through the window. "Sorry."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't react visibly when John deflects the question, just watching him quietly as he gets out of the car without even giving Dirk the chance to answer. He'd paid already, of course, but he didn't think John cared to hear it regardless.</p><p>He had his phone set back up on the dash when John got back to the car, the directions clearly visible. Dirk takes the food, setting the bag at his feet to keep it steady before turning his attention back to John.</p><p>"I meant what I said."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay." John doesn't say anything else until he's back in the car, driving out of the lot. "I didn't think this was a thing we had to talk about." The way home wasn't that difficult to figure out from here, but he still appreciates the map as something to look at other than his passenger.</p><p>"Just as long as you know I'm doing these things because I want to. So maybe don't make it a competition?"</p><p> </p><p>"If it's genuinely an issue for you, then I'll stop." Dirk notices that John wouldn't look at him, so he turns his eyes to look out the windshield instead, watching the road.</p><p>"But it's important to me that you understand that I appreciate what you do. Making it up to you is how I choose to express that."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay," he repeats, but John feels a little bit better. He fidgets with the wheel, driving mostly in silence for a bit. "That's fine, then. As long as you're not taking it as some obligation or a favor I need repaid. Right?"</p><p>He pulls into the parking garage, eventually reaching his spot. "I'm good with it, then. And since I'm making it a habit to offer, want me to carry you in?"</p><p> </p><p>"Not to the extent that I don't understand repayment isn't necessary."</p><p>It was sort of a roundabout answer, but one that was objectively positive. Dirk did feel as if he had a debt to repay to John for doing something so nice for him. And he'd feel shitty if he didn't come up with something to do for him in return, when the time came. But he knew it wasn't something that he <em>had</em> to do. He wanted to. Needed to, to some extent.</p><p>Maybe he was just trying to find a nicer way of disagreeing.</p><p>Dirk grabs the food from the floor, tucking his phone into his pocket. He elects to just leave his shades in the car - it's not like he'd need them at this point - and grabs the bag from John's brief stop at the store. Intent on carrying everything, it seemed.</p><p>"This would arguably be the most suitable occasion that you've offered, but let me reiterate: I'm <em>fine</em>, John." Dirk huffs a laugh, opening the passenger door to climb out of the car.</p><p> </p><p>John makes a face like he knows it's a weak answer, but it's an acceptable one for now. He goes to grab the food, only to find Dirk with his hands full, and that is not acceptable. "No, nuh uh. If you're gonna carry all the bags then I <em>will</em> carry you. Bridal style. So either gimme a bag or brace yourself."</p><p>To make good on his threat, John hops out and locks the car doors so he can jog over and place himself between Dirk and the entrance into the apartment building.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you serious right now? We're right here, John. It'll be ten seconds, max." Dirk takes a small step back from John to discourage being lifted, and held the bags a bit tighter. John was so insistent about the weirdest things.</p><p>Well, maybe it wasn't that weird. Dirk had admitted it was a fair offer, considering his aching inner thighs.</p><p>"Just get the door for me. I can walk."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, so it'll only be ten seconds of either me carrying you, or ten seconds of holding one bag each." John smiles, makes it clear he's about to make this as difficult as possible if Dirk doesn't give in, and mirrors his step back with a step closer.</p><p>"If you don't like the bridal style, I could throw you over my shoulder instead. I just don't think it'll feel that great to cling to my back this time." He holds a hand out, keeping his stance wide so he can do his best to block the door.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk quirked a brow at him, knowing the second that he saw that mischievous smile on John's face that he was completely insistent on this. "...Dude."</p><p>"Just come inside." Dirk decides to test him, because he really didn't see the point in arguing about it. They could have been inside already by now. Dirk purposefully grips the bags a little tighter in case of snatching, and makes an attempt to dart around John for the door. </p><p> </p><p>His body winds tight as Dirk rushes to the side, and as his shoulders tense up, John has to forcefully stop himself from lunging at the other man. All that would do is potentially hurt him more. John groans and skitters backward, arm outstretched to try and catch Dirk around the waist.</p><p>"Oh my god, come on!"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk dances away from John's arm, staying just out of reach as he picks up his pace and jogs for the door. He quickly switches one of the bags over to hold them both in one hand, pulling it open and making a run for John's apartment.</p><p>His thighs were <em>not</em> happy about this development, and he felt that he was running a little slower than usual thanks to the pain. He could probably still beat John there, though.</p><p> </p><p>He isn't sure if he should be laughing, because this was stupid and only putting more strain on Dirk's legs most likely, but it bursts out of him anyway. John spins on his heel, sprinting after the other man down the hall. "That's so dumb, Dirk! You don't even have the <em>keys</em>!"</p><p>He thinks he might be making some progress, and hopefully the key comment will slow him down, so John holds his arms out before himself, ready to scoop Dirk up.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk must have been seriously handicapped by his sore legs, because he could hear John's voice surprisingly close behind him. He caught up <em>so fast</em>.</p><p>He knows he can't afford to lose ground, but it sounds like John is catching up to him regardless, even though he didn't seem to slow down at the realization that he had no way of actually getting into John's apartment once he gets there.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk is already pretty close to the apartment, and the nice thing to do would have been to stop, announce that <em>fine</em>, Dirk won, tell him to stop running so he doesn't ache so badly.</p><p>John kicks up a burst of speed, bending to hook Dirk behind the knees as he reaches him, catching his back with his other arm. He twists so he slams and scrapes his back against the wall to slow down the momentum, only wincing a little as his shoulderblade presses onto a doorframe. It was better than knocking Dirk's legs into the wall instead. "Hah."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk lets out a strangled noise of surprise when John scoops him up, sweeping him off his feet in the most literal sense. It had to have put some strain on his back, and the way he slammed into the wall afterwards certainly didn't help. It was only his concern about this that kept him from struggling in John's arms.</p><p>"Jesus <em>fuck,</em> John. Are you okay?"</p><p> </p><p>The victory is enough of a distraction, especially now that Dirk is in his arms. John just laughs again and carries him the remaining few steps to his door. "No big deal. It was worth it! But it could've all been avoided if you'd just given me a damn bag, you jerk."</p><p>He smiles at him before leaning against the door and having another little dilemma. "Key's in my pocket."</p><p> </p><p>"It wasn't that big of a deal. You're the one who made it a thing, bro." Dirk insists, frowning at John and shifting the bags to hold them to his chest in the effort of freeing up his hand.</p><p>He reaches down, sliding his hand along John's thigh to feel for his pocket. He tries not to think about the implications of what he was doing, but since he couldn't exactly see what he was reaching for, he could only hope that his hand didn't end up on John's dick and make an uncomfortable situation that much more awkward. Eventually though, Dirk finds the hem of John's pocket and pulls out the keys, reaching down to unlock the door from this weird angle.</p><p> </p><p>"You should probably know me a little better than that by now." He didn't expect Dirk to go along with it that easily. John was just going to dangle him over his shoulder and get the keys himself if he had to. But as Dirk's hand slips down, he presses his forehead against the door, turning away from him to hide the color blooming over his skin. It probably wasn't that effective but he feels assured that Dirk wouldn't say anything if it meant calling attention to the situation.</p><p>He huffs out a little laugh, waiting for the door to be unlatched before bumping it open with his hip and carrying Dirk inside to the couch. John plops him down gently before walking back to shut the door and head into the kitchenette. "What do you want to drink? Did they give us utensils?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk notices John leaning his head against the doorframe when his hand is in his pocket, and he has a pretty good guess as to why. Dirk probably would have been doing the same, if he could. Luckily, no unwanted groping occurs, and Dirk holds out the bags so they wouldn't topple over as John sits him down on the couch.</p><p>He puts the food on the coffee table and the other bag on the floor as he works on taking off his boots. "Water is fine. We should have utensils in there."</p><p> </p><p>"Cool." He snags two water bottles from the bottom of the fridge, carrying them over. "Anything else before we dig in? I can get some pain medicine if you need it on top of all that stuff."</p><p>John places the water on his table but doesn't sit just yet.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk huffs a slight laugh. It was almost weird how comfortable he was getting with John's mothering. Dirk was used to giving it, not taking it - but with John, it was becoming second nature. He'd still never admit it, but he actually kind of enjoyed it, foreign as it was.</p><p>"No. I'll plug in the heating pad in a second, John. Sit down." He sets his boots under the coffee table, grabbing the bag from the floor to take out the heating pad and start to unpackage it.</p><p> </p><p>John chews on his lip, about to offer anything else, ask if he couldn't make up for the soreness somehow, but he can recognize when he's pushing it. So he sits a little closer to Dirk than he usually does on his couch, with the excuse of needing to get into the bag of food. </p><p>"If you say so, but the offer's still there if you change your mind." He digs around, producing the containers and little packets of silverware, figuring out which was his lasagna before digging in. He plucks a few breadsticks from the bag and pushes one into the sauce, coating it and taking a bite, watching Dirk the whole time.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk could feel John's eyes on him as he digs into the heating pad, shoving the packaging back into the bag before scooting over on the couch to plug it into the wall. He made sure to make it quick, because he had a feeling John would have dropped everything to get up and plug it in himself if he showed any sort of difficulty. It was sweet, really.</p><p>He switches on the heating pad, scooting back up next to John as he puts the warming device between his thighs, holding them together.</p><p>He didn't expect John to still be watching when he pops open the takeout container with his pasta inside, but it seemed like he still had his attention.</p><p>"John." Dirk states, a hint of amusement in his eyes, despite the flat line of his mouth. "I'm fine."</p><p> </p><p>John laughs a little around his breadstick. He'd been called out. "Yeah, alright! Can you blame me for making sure? Muscle aches are no joke, Dirk." He still has this small, nervous urge to offer a massage, but that wouldn't do anything but embarrass him. </p><p>"Wanna watch anything?"</p><p> </p><p>"You're obsessed." Dirk simply shakes his head, unwrapping his packet of utensils to dig into his pasta. He takes a bite, and glances back to John when he seems satisfied with it. It was kind of a dainty pasta dish, but that was more Dirk's style anyway - particularly for his walnut sized stomach.</p><p>"Let's try something new. Stranger Things never seems to be in the cards for us. Or series' in general, really." He twirls some pasta around his fork. "Try a movie."</p><p> </p><p>He laughs again, cheeks flushing just a little, before passing the remote over. "Maybe." And maybe it's time for some sincerity. "I just like you. I want you to be okay, I guess. I didn't stop to think about any pain from the surprise, or I'd have planned it a little different. It's your turn to pick something."</p><p> </p><p>The sincerity that once might have made Dirk significantly uncomfortable only ended up making him feel a brief moment of awkwardness. He averted his eyes from John as he takes the remote, still poking at his food.</p><p>"...Yeah. I like you too. What you did for me today is worth a lot more than some minor soreness, though. Don't beat yourself up over it." He chances a glance back to John as he taps the button on the remote to flick through some of their viewing options.</p><p> </p><p>John finishes the first breadstick and uses the edge of a plastic fork to cut into the lasagna. He doesn't look at Dirk right away, letting him comb through the options. "It wasn't that big a deal. I mean-"</p><p>John winces because he knows it was for Dirk. "I mean, it wasn't all that difficult on my part. I didn't even think you'd enjoy it that much. I sort of just had the idea of a kid at the zoo."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk does look at John this time. He stares at him for a long moment, like he was searching for something in his eyes. Eventually though, he drops his gaze back to his pasta, his fingers stilling on the remote still in his hand.</p><p>"...I almost worked at a horse ranch when I was a teenager, you know." Dirk says, something slightly different in his tone. "It was a paid internship, and I was really excited about it. Even though I grew up in Texas, I'd never been to a farm. We lived in the city." He pokes at his food. "I told my Bro about it, thinking he'd be happy to know I was going to be raking in some extra income to help with Dave." More playing with his food. "Said I was a pansy for wanting to play with ponies all day, instead of getting a real job."</p><p>He was silent for a beat or two.</p><p>"I didn't take the job, obviously. But I didn't understand why he thought that. Manual labor is some stereotypical macho shit that I thought he'd appreciate." Dirk breathes a sigh through his nose. "Pretty sure he just wanted me to be the one to stay home and look after Dave, so he wouldn't get into some shit he wasn't supposed to."</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't say anything - in fact, he doesn't even realize Dirk may be working himself up for something until he takes a few more bites of lasagna and glances over, catching that searching gaze. He lowers his fork and waits, recognizing this as some sort of Moment™.</p><p>If it weren't for how Dirk sounded right now, John may have been a more active listener, but something told him he should stay silent, wait until Dirk finished. It might have been the weird little tightness growing in his chest, but John turns toward his friend, leaning toward him as he spoke. He kind of wanted to reach out, touch his arm or hold him somehow.</p><p>His brows draw down when he mentions his brother, and jesus. What an asshole. Nothing he's heard about this guy has been positive, and he wonders silently if there ever <em>had</em> been anything positive. When Dirk seems finished, John can't help but scoot just a little closer, bent knee brushing Dirk's thigh. He doesn't want to do anything too touchy, because he remembers Dave talking about how he reacts to pity, but he still curls his hand loosely around Dirk's bicep.</p><p>"Damn. I really don't like that guy."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk huffs a humorless little laugh. He realizes he's put himself in a vulnerable position by revealing this story. It was uncomfortable and awkward, when he thinks about what he'd just said. But it doesn't make him feel as squeamish in his skin as he might have normally. He doesn't beat himself up about it, for once - about the possibility of opening himself up to pity.</p><p>"Yeah. Me neither." Dirk glances back up to John, silently moving to rest his hand over John's on his bicep for the second time today. He was closer this time, though. "It was easier to deal with, when I made my interest in horses into this ironic obsession. People know me for that shit. I'm the horse guy. MLP is an excellent front, for the record, thanks to all the ophidiophilic incels that are the face of the fanbase. Maybe it was pathetic of me, to essentially make fun of myself for the sake of irony." Dirk clears his throat to dislodge the lump that had formed from his discomfort at expressing himself, realizing he could easily get off track here.</p><p>"The point is, uh. What you did today meant a lot to me. No bullshit."</p><p> </p><p>John swallows, eyes downcast as he tries for something to say. He meets Dirk's look with a small smile, pressing and rubbing his thumb in little circles into his arm, beneath his hand. He's terrified he might say the wrong thing - make a joke when the mood should be serious, try for something sincere but end up missing the mark. He really doesn't want to ruin the moment, but saying nothing at all felt wrong too.</p><p>"I definitely kind of stumbled into it, but I'm really glad I did. Also, I have <em>no</em> idea what ophidiophilic means." It isn't really what he's going for, and his little wince shows it. "Sorry. I'm kind of an idiot about stuff like this. I'd offer to beat up your bro but he'd probably kick my ass from what I know about him. Also, that makes me sound like some roided up asshole, and I'm only half that."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk smiles a bit when John admits to not knowing the word, feeling the light brush of his thumb along his arm. He responds in turn, following a similar motion of rubbing the back of John's palm.</p><p>"You're not an asshole. I still appreciate the sentiment of you adding to the lightyears long list of people willing to kick the shit out of my brother, though." Dirk laughs softly, using his free hand to place his open container of food on the coffee table. His fingers curl slightly around John's, gripping them loosely. "It's an act of public service, at this point."</p><p> </p><p>"Mmh. Debatable. But I'm glad everyone else has the right idea." There's a swoop in his belly, and John can feel that familiar prickle of heat rising up his neck and chest as they sit here together. He feels bad when Dirk sets his food aside - he was probably hungry, right? But <em>he</em> was the one holding John's hand.</p><p>The grip around Dirk's arm slides just a bit lower, loosens a little. He should let him eat. "You didn't tell me what the word means. And I feel like it's not something I wanna Google unless I've got incognito mode on."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels John loosening the grip on his arm, and realizes abruptly that he'd started to hold his hand. He let go immediately, his hand dropping awkwardly to rest back in his lap. Luckily though, the twinge he feels in his chest doesn't show on his face.</p><p>"Ophidiophilia is attraction to animals. Fancier word for bestiality, essentially. Both are considered highly offensive to bronies. Cloppers, specifically. Not all bronies." Dirk clarifies, like it wasn't the most ridiculous shit he'd ever said.</p><p> </p><p>"So I was right to not want to Google." Dirk's hand drops from his, and even though it's probably better for him to eat, John still misses it. His own hand drops down to Dirk's elbow, but doesn't let go just yet.</p><p>"I'm glad I did something right, though. You deserve it."</p><p> </p><p>"You do a lot right. Don't sell yourself short, man."</p><p>Dirk says it quietly as he meets John's eyes, and he means it. John might not have known him as well as Dave or Roxy did, but he <em>understood</em> him. And to Dirk, that almost mattered more.</p><p> </p><p>John smiles, dimples denting his cheeks with the soft (and juuuust a little impish) curve. "Are you calling me short?" His thumb rubs over the soft antecubital area of Dirk's arm, pressing gently. He was gonna let go, any second now. They had to eat.</p><p>But there wasn't anything wrong with enjoying the contact.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk spots the little smile on John's lips (<em>How long had he been looking at his lips?</em>), and returns it with a small grin of his own.</p><p>"I wasn't. But I wouldn't be wrong, would I?"</p><p> </p><p>John snorts quietly, eyes squinting with his repressed laughter. "<em>Okay</em>. Just because I'm not some damn giraffe..." He pushes at Dirk gently, not even enough to nudge him, before finally releasing his elbow.</p><p>He doesn't really mind being smaller than Dirk, if it meant feeling like this whenever he had to tilt himself down to look at John. It'd be a convenient way to just lean on him and not worry about smashing Dirk's nose into his face if he wanted to. If they ever got to that point in their friendship where casual physical contact was acceptable.</p><p>While studying Dirk's jaw and mentally calculating just how easy it would be if he ever tried, John's eyes flick up, remembering 'ah, he left his shades in my car, better not forget them.' But Dirk is looking down; he mistakes it, at first, for a kind of unconscious thing, like Dirk was thinking about something and letting his eyes glaze over. But no, he looks pretty focused still. That nervous, prickling heat returns, crawling up his throat and into his face.</p><p>"Hey..."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk had more than enough time to stop himself. Every second that passed, he could have given it a second thought. <em>Any</em> thought.</p><p>He didn't.</p><p>Dirk leaned forward, tipping his head down the small distance it took to press his lips to John's. The second he felt the warmth of his mouth against his own, his pulse started to pick up - his eyes falling shut and his thoughts flatlining into radio silence.</p><p> </p><p>Okay yeah there was no misreading this energy. John pulls in a lungful of air, wetting his lips in the time it took for Dirk to make contact. Despite it being pretty obvious just what was about to happen, John still wonders if this was genuine. He swallows, thinks about how poorly he must have been hiding his interest, opens his mouth to say something - he wants to <em>apologize</em> for some reason - but as soon as Dirk kisses him, all that anxiety flies out the window.</p><p>He knows somewhere in him that will come back soon, but for now he enjoys it. He also knows that it's a good thing Dirk left his shades behind, or they'd have an uncomfortable scraping to deal with.</p><p>John closes his eyes, breathes slowly through his nose, and tilts himself up so they can fit together. The hand still on Dirk's elbow slides up, pausing at his shoulder before continuing along his collar and resting on the side of his neck.</p><p> </p><p>Something within Dirk relaxes immensely when John kisses him back. He could still feel his heart pounding against his ribs, a bit of warmth rising to his cheeks. It takes the feeling of John's hand on the side of his neck for him to snap out of it.</p><p>There was a part of him that was going buckfucking wild inside with sheer terror and panic, but another significant part that wanted nothing more than to <em>just stop thinking</em> for once. Regardless, both of those parts agreed that Dirk needed to pull back. Maybe get John's opinion first, instead of getting lip friendly without warning.</p><p>Dirk's eyes opened before he broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to search John's face. His own expression was unreadable. He didn't say anything. He didn't know what <em>to</em> say. But there was a question that was implied, hanging in the air heavy between them that he was too nervous to voice.</p><p>
  <em>Should I stop?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The kiss doesn't last long at all before Dirk pulls back, and John is almost thankful that it was so chaste and quick, as much as he wants it to continue. He can't shake the guilt, the worry that Dirk was only doing this because he thought John wanted it.</p><p>And <em>sure</em>, he fucking wants it, but not because he did something nice that got Dirk feeling all soft. He doesn't want the kiss to be some sort of payment. Did Dirk even-</p><p>John bites his lip, expression twisted into something nervous, showing his guilt clearly. But Dirk doesn't say anything, so of course it's up to John to make sure.</p><p>"... You know, uh. You know I didn't. <em>Do</em> that to get you to like me, right? I just wanted to do something you'd like." He'd risk running the moment if it meant making sure this wasn't unintentional manipulation.</p><p> </p><p>"John." The word comes out flat, but it almost sounds like a warning. It bred a little bit of offense on Dirk's part, in all honesty. He knew he didn't hold the cleanest reputation when it came to being easy, but he wasn't an idiot. He was practically raised to know when he was being taken advantage of. This wasn't one of those times. </p><p>"You're not manipulating me."</p><p> </p><p>He still has that little prickle of doubt, but it'd be insulting to insist he knew better than Dirk did about Dirk getting manipulated. So, even though it probably shows through his expression that he feels guilty, John shrugs.</p><p>"Oh. Okay. This is cool, then."</p><p> </p><p>"It's... cool?"</p><p>Dirk asks the question almost incredulously. Of all of the things that John could have said to him, that was the one he wasn't expecting. And maybe it was the nerves, or maybe it was the adrenaline of kissing John again, but Dirk felt himself laughing. He brought a hand up to cover his face, palm pressing to his forehead as he snickered uncontrollably.</p><p>"<em>Cool.</em> I kissed you, and that's all you have to say?"</p><p> </p><p>John... doesn't know if this is good or bad laughter considering the context, but he can't help but enjoy it whenever Dirk laughs. His lips purse, putting on an embarrassed act in an attempt to hide his own little smile. "Oh my <em>god</em>. Whatever!" He curls his hand around Dirk's wrist, trying to tug his hand away from his face.</p><p>"Shut <em>up</em>, it wasn't that funny!" A short, breathy huff of laughter punches out of his chest, embarrassed and pleased at the break in tension. "Don't be an ass! What am I supposed to say? Would you prefer 'hey, thanks!'?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was still chuckling, a weird weight in his chest lifting as he heard John join in with that embarrassed laugh of his own. He didn't resist when John grabbed his hand and pulled it from his face, just turning his head to look at him properly, unable to hide his smile.</p><p>"You suck at this."</p><p> </p><p>John doesn't let go of his hand now that he has it. He laughs again, fingers curling up into his palm but not quite holding his hand properly. "At <em>what</em>, exactly?" Breaking eye contact, he dips his head down, lifting Dirk's wrist to press a little kiss on the joint of his thumb, then further down, against the side of his wrist, just above where his fingers circle around it.</p><p> </p><p>"At kissing. Not sure if you knew this, but there's typically a lot less talking involved." Dirk murmurs, watching John press his lips to his hand with a light smile. He should be embarrassed. He should be <em>rational.</em> They'd spent these past weeks barely managing to establish a friendship, and Dirk had completely shattered all that they built. What <em>was</em> this? What did it <em>mean</em>?</p><p>Dirk ignored the thoughts.</p><p>He rests his free hand on John's knee.</p><p> </p><p>"Who gave you the right to make up rules about how to kiss?" Oh boy, his stomach sure did swoop as soon as John said that. A nervous little giggle bubbles out of him, and John is glad he isn't holding eye contact anymore because <em>wow</em>, what were they doing? He should probably stop kissing Dirk's hand like some dumbass.</p><p>His thumb swipes over the skin he kissed once he sits back up, and John bites down on his lower lip. He touches the back of the hand resting on his leg before leaning closer again. "Pretty sure there's a way you could get me to stop, you know." He does his best to hold a straight face, but the way the corners of his mouth twitch gives him away. "I mean, there are a few ways, but I think I'd only like one of them."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk's laughter had mostly subsided - his mouth falling into a small smile he couldn't get off his face - but he still huffs an amused noise through his nose at John's coyness. His eyes dart down to his lips again, his voice quiet when he spoke, just loud enough for John to hear.</p><p>"Which way would that be?"</p><p>He doesn't give John a chance to answer, though, leaning closer to bridge the gap between them, kissing him again. The hand on John's knee slides a little further upward as Dirk scoots closer to him - though it was unintentional. He just wanted to be closer.</p><p> </p><p>John still tries to squeeze out an answer before Dirk kisses him. His voice is also quiet, raspy and crackling toward the end, right before they make contact. "You're a smart guy-"</p><p>Breath hitches in his chest, at first from gentle laughter, but then again when Dirk's hand slides up onto his thigh. He squeezes his fingers, gently, but doesn't push him away. Instead, he tilts his head and mouths at Dirk's lower lip. After one last little brush of his thumb across Dirk's wrist, he releases that arm to slide up and squeeze his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk feels John squeeze his hand, and only then realizes that it had slipped up his thigh. John didn't seem to have a problem with it though, so neither would Dirk. It's not like Dirk knew what he was doing right now, after all. He had no concrete intentions. For now, he was just kissing John. <em>He was kissing John.</em> And seriously fucking enjoying himself.</p><p>Dirk parted his lips slightly when John mouths at him, brushing his tongue over John's lip - an invitation.</p><p> </p><p>The hand in his shoulder slides higher, curling over the back of Dirk's neck. John briefly wonders if this is a good idea - maybe he's still just affectionate from earlier and he'll regret this later on - but then his tongue swipes over his lip and John sighs into him. He can worry about that later.</p><p>He squeezes Dirk's hand again, pressing against it and pushing it harder onto his thigh before sliding his grip higher, over his wrist and forearm until he's holding his elbow again. John is leaning forward a little, but now he's beginning to feel the strain of having his head tilted back to reach the kiss. So he angles backward slowly, using the hand on Dirk's neck to try and pull him down with him, not wanting to break contact. The only time he genuinely dislikes being short is when he kisses someone taller than him. Maybe he should get up on his knees.</p><p>To hopefully convince Dirk to follow along, he briefly takes that invitation. His tongue flicks between parted lips, quick short movements where he doesn't do more than curl over his teeth and tap the tip of his tongue, teasing.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk chases John's lips when he starts to pull back, quickly realizing with the hand on the back of his neck that John was after a better angle. Dirk shifted on the couch, making a valiant effort not to break the kiss as he turns to properly face him. The heating pad falls to the floor as he brings his leg up onto the couch, leaning into John more comfortably, but he didn't seem to care.</p><p>Dirk's fingers trace idle patterns as he rubs John's thigh, creeping slightly upwards before retreating back down. Teasing, almost. His other hand moves to settle on John's side, lightly gripping his shirt as he deepens the kiss and presses his tongue into John's mouth now that he had the permission.</p><p> </p><p>His fingers tighten just a little around his arm, almost nervous when Dirk slides higher up his thigh, but when he retreats right away, John huffs a little, snorting into the kiss. Lips curl into a little smile, parting to kiss him more firmly now that they were in a better position for him.</p><p>His fingers curl up into Dirk's hair, feeling the product keeping him from stroking through properly, but it feels a little looser than he expected - either Dirk used the good stuff (likely), or the day's activity was enough to work it out of a tighter hold (also likely). Though, thinking of the day's activity, it can't feel that great for Dirk to angle his legs like this.</p><p>John releases his arm, gently presses his fingertips to Dirk's inner thigh, and hums around his tongue questioningly, mouth squeezing and tugging at him.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk smiles when he hears John snort at his teasing, nipping playfully at his lower lip. He breathes a content little noise into John's mouth when he feels the fingers in his hair, even though it catches a little on the product. Dirk really couldn't give less of a shit if John fucked up his hair, though.</p><p>When he feels John's fingers on his inner thigh, he startles a little, not expecting it. How into this was he getting that he couldn't have noticed that John's hand was moving south? Regardless though, he nods just enough to give John the affirmative that he could touch him, but not enough to jostle the kiss.</p><p> </p><p>Since he can't run fingers through his hair easily, John is content with scratching and rubbing gently at his scalp instead. He smiles when Dirk does, loves feeling it against his lips, and John presses his tongue more firmly against Dirk's, pushing him back into his own mouth for a tradeoff.</p><p>When Dirk jolts, he tugs his hand back until given the affirmative. But instead of any soft sensual touch, John squeezes and moves the muscle around, hoping he's helping at least a little with the ache now that the heating pad is no longer there.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk makes a soft sound in the back of his throat when John presses his tongue into his mouth, practically melting against him with the fingers in his hair. Just like his ears, playing with Dirk's hair was a very particular weak spot of his. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that it was rare that it got any attention from wandering hands, thanks to his meticulous hair styling.</p><p>John's hand returns to his leg, and while he'd been expecting him to touch him this time, what he didn't expect was that touch to be something more akin to...</p><p>Dirk pulls back slightly, just enough to speak against John's mouth, amusement in his voice. "Are you massaging my thigh right now?"</p><p> </p><p>John sighs again, wants to lay back and pull Dirk down on top of him to keep up this sweet, lazy kiss. His tongue traces the edge of his teeth before slipping deeper into his mouth-</p><p>And then Dirk is breaking the kiss to ask a dumb question. John rolls his eyes and snorts, licking his lips and shivering when the tip of his tongue touches Dirk's mouth. "Are you wasting prime kissing time asking that right now?" He tilts forward to peck his lips before leaning fully away. The heating pad is just within reach when he leans to the side, and he plucks it up, stuffing it between Dirk's thighs. "You're gonna hurt tomorrow if you don't take care of it today."</p><p> </p><p>"God, you're such a dork." Dirk murmurs fondly, not resisting this time as John pulls back. He didn't want to, since it was inconvenient, but he did hold the heating pad between his thighs for John's sake before leaning in to press his lips back to his with a renewed fervor.</p><p>He couldn't get enough of it. The hand that had been on John's thigh slides up to his hip, leaning further into him. He wasn't sure if he'd be happy about the heating pad getting dislodged if Dirk laid him down, but there was only one way to find out.</p><p> </p><p>John grunts, pretends to take offense, because Dirk was the dork here, there's no ignoring the coincidence of his name, but he doesn't really care enough about the bit to break the newly resumed kiss. Especially with how excited Dirk seems to be this round. He can't stop another shiver, winding both arms behind Dirk and pulling him closer.</p><p>And when he feels a pressure on his hip, the kiss taking a more assertive tone, John moans up into it, eagerly shifting his legs up - there's an awkward moment when he has to bend a knee up and move it between them so he can get them on either side of Dirk - and laying back on the couch.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt something warm twist in the pit of his stomach when John moans into his mouth - and as much as he was ignoring about the consequences of what he was doing right now, there was no ignoring that telltale rush of blood flow southward.</p><p>The hand on John's hip slides back to his thigh as he readjusts himself to lay back, Dirk following him all the way. He settles on top of John, his chest pressed flush to his with his forearm propped beside John's head.</p><p> </p><p>He keeps his arms wound loosely around Dirk's waist, holding him and enjoying his weight. Hopefully he made for a good place to lay, because John always liked having people on top of him like this. Really, if he just had a pillow, he'd be so comfortable right now. </p><p>He strokes his hands up and down the small of his back, sighing up into his mouth as he opens up for him. God, he loved kissing.</p><p> </p><p>The hand on John's thigh slides back up his hip and over his side, where Dirk had been tickling him earlier. He wasn't looking to elicit a reaction this time though, so he presses a little firmer, and with his palm. It ends up rucking John's shirt up a bit along with it.</p><p>After another minute or two, Dirk starts to trail his lips away from John, tentatively kissing along his jaw. He wasn't sure if John would ask him to stop, if he started moving down to kiss his neck. It was another boundary he needed to test.</p><p> </p><p>Whether it was intended or not, John can't help a little twitch at the touch to his side. It feels a little better than a tickle, though, so he doesn't try to stop him. And he absolutely doesn't stop him when he moves down his neck. </p><p>John pulls in a slow breath, eyes closed as Dirk kisses him, and it raises gooseflesh down his arms, feeling his face tingle with increased blood flow. He sighs again, and his hips roll up slowly.</p><p> </p><p>When John seems to respond well to the attention to his neck, Dirk parts his lips, grazing his teeth lightly against the sensitive skin. He knew better than to leave a mark, but that didn't mean he couldn't tease a little.</p><p>Dirk's breath hitches when John rocks his hips up against him, and realizes all at once that the heating pad had situated itself squarely between the two of them, with the cord precariously stretched over from the wall. He huffs a curse under his breath, reaching down between their hips and grabbing the pad to toss it unceremoniously to the floor.</p><p>"Later." He mumbles, before John could protest.</p><p> </p><p>John makes an embarrassing, choked noise at the teeth on his throat, rocking up again a little more insistently. But this time he's met with nothing, Dirk having pulled away to move the heating pad. It's just enough clarity in the moment that when their bodies come back together, fit against one another again, it leaves a sick feeling mingling with all the arousal.</p><p>John sucks in a short breath, and shaking hands shoot up to grip Dirk's shoulders. "Dirk, wait- uh..." He pauses, tries again after filling his lungs and stammering out an attempt at awkward laughter. </p><p>"Uh, hey. I don't think I'm cut out for this... this friends with benefits thing after all." Almost as soon as it leaves his tongue, John feels like it's the wrong thing to say. But he said it, and he knows it's true. And he sure as hell can't ask Dirk for more.</p><p> </p><p>The sentence should have hit Dirk like a bucket of ice water. The keywords being <em>should have</em>. Instead, the dread was slower. An intravenous chill spreading through him from inside out. 'Chill' might not have been the best word for it. But the metaphor lent itself well to Dirk's frozen posture hovering above John.</p><p>"...Oh." It's all he says, at first. He didn't want the hurt to spread to his voice or show on his face as he eventually pulled back to look at John, but he wasn't sure if he was successful. He should have expected this. What was he even thinking, kissing John? He didn't have any reason to be shocked that his <em>friend</em> (the mental emphasis prodded him with shame) didn't want this sprung on him all of a sudden, just because Dirk was...</p><p>Whatever he was feeling.</p><p>"Uh, yeah. Right. Sorry." Dirk says, his tone lacking the desperate sort of panic he was starting to feel. Had he fucked this up <em>again?</em></p><p>Dirk pushes himself up awkwardly off of John, using one of his knees to move backwards and sit up properly on the couch again, tugging the hem of his hoodie downwards as he did.</p><p> </p><p>It's somehow worse than John was expecting. He gets to watch it up close, no shades in the way, as Dirk slowly retreats into himself again. <em>Fuck</em>, he so wanted today of all days to end on a sweet note. Couldn't they just have a good time all the way through, just <em>once</em>? His stomach twists, and John sits up as well, fixing his shirt and his glasses.</p><p>He really didn't want that to end. But he also didn't want to do something they'd regret. He opens his mouth to try and tell him what he really wants, but he can't. And he's sure Dirk is just going to leave again. That hurts even more.</p><p>"Look... uh." He stalls, fingers digging into the knees of his jeans.</p><p> </p><p>"No. It's okay. You don't have to explain yourself." Dirk picks up the heating pad, placing it back on his legs. God, he couldn't even look at John right now. He's sure that his face has gone red from embarrassment at the rejection. He didn't know what to do with himself.</p><p>He goes silent for a moment or two, reaching up to card his fingers through his hair nervously, before breathing a long exhale through his nose.</p><p>"I'm... sorry for springing that on you. I understand if you want me to leave."</p><p> </p><p>John breathes out, kind of glad he didn't have to, because the last thing he wanted right now was to say something to make things even weirder between them. It's also relief that if he was putting the heating pad back on, it meant he wasn't going to leave. Maybe.</p><p>He watches Dirk in silence for a moment, until he apologizes, and for a second he has to genuinely stop and think about which of them initiated the kiss. It was such a natural thing that felt so good, but... he doesn't think he'd have had the confidence to kiss Dirk first, especially now that he's remembering the talk about manipulation.</p><p>"No, god. Dirk, the last thing I want is for you to leave." Before he realizes it, John's hand is halfway between them again, reaching out to Dirk. His fingers curl into the couch instead. "That's not what... I didn't say that because I didn't-" <em>No</em>. John wasn't going to put that kind of pressure on their friendship. Dirk did it because it felt nice. "It was nice."</p><p> </p><p>The reassurance doesn't bring Dirk the relief that he needs, but it did mean that he felt a little less like tearing his own hair out. The worries didn't stop, though.</p><p>
  <em>He's just saying that to be nice. You dug this grave for yourself, Strider. Are you seriously this pathetic that you can't have even one friendship without ruining it?</em>
</p><p>Dirk runs a hand down his face, feeling the sudden urge to ignore John's request to stay, and just walk his desperate ass back to his apartment.</p><p>But John wanted him to stay.</p><p>And when had running ever helped him? John had wormed his way under his skin, and Dirk was an idiot parading around like a genius if he seriously thought he could ever deny him anything.</p><p>His chest ached.</p><p>"...Yeah. It was."</p><p> </p><p>It doesn't seem like he's comforted Dirk with his reassurances, judging by his body language. John swallows and rubs a hand down his arm, then gingerly touches his neck where Dirk had just been kissing. ... Fuck, he was an idiot. "But if you don't wanna hang out right now, I get it."</p><p>He grabs his discarded food container, starts dipping his second breadstick into the sauce, and doesn't look at him. "Whatever you want."</p><p> </p><p>"I can stay, if you want me to." <em>Since when was he only operating on John's terms? Jesus, he was pathetic.</em> "I'm not sure that I'm going to be able to pretend that didn't just happen, though."</p><p>Dirk huffs a self suffering little chuckle that didn't hold any amusement, equally avoiding John's eyes just as much. He didn't start eating again, but noticed that John was. Maybe they should just finish dinner.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. I want you to. Dirk, I <em>always</em> want you to." John tries to smile at him, but it's a little sad. He's left a lot. But that just makes this feel better, even if he can tell Dirk wants to bolt.</p><p>"... That's not what I want. It was <em>good</em>. I really liked it. I just don't want it to be," his hand waves vaguely before him and John stuffs his mouth with bread to have reason to pause and gather his thoughts. "To be just that. You know?" Way to make it as confusing as possible, buddy.</p><p> </p><p>"What do you mean, 'just that?'" <em>It's not like you have a problem putting out, Dirk. Doesn't he know you would have given him everything he wanted?</em></p><p>He allowed himself to look at John, if anything, to have a reprieve from the pity party his thoughts were so cruelly throwing for him. He knew he was being dramatic, but he couldn't help himself. Self hatred was a tempting mistress.</p><p> </p><p>"Never mind." His words aren't coming out clearly, and John already decided he wasn't gonna make this worse. "I'm sorry." John stuffs the last of the breadstick in his mouth, then finds the remote and passes it back. The bread doesn't go down easy, no longer as warm as it was when he pulled it out of the bag, so it takes a minute to swallow it down.</p><p>"I don't want to pretend, uh. <em>Any</em> of it didn't happen, you know? Except the start, I mean. I like spending time with you. I <em>like</em> you." This was getting a little close to what he didn't want to admit to. "And I like all the time we've had together. Now pick a fucking movie already, before the food's gone."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk... didn't know what to make of that. What John said, while decently vague, also described how Dirk thinks he feels fairly well. He liked John too. But obviously, there was something different about their feelings.</p><p>The key difference being that John didn't want to kiss him right now.</p><p>Dirk swallows thickly, his eyes dropping to stare somewhere blankly off into the distance as he tried to get himself together. This was fine. <em>He</em> was fine.</p><p>He had to be.</p><p>After a minute or so, Dirk offers a slight smile. It wasn't unlike the ones he'd been wearing on his face practically all day, but it didn't reach his eyes anymore. And his eyes didn't find their way back to John. He scoots over a bit on the couch to fish it out of the cushions where it'd gotten lodged, picking some random drama flick that was the first recommendation in the movie genre.</p><p>"Demanding much?"</p><p> </p><p>That was it, there wasn't coming back from this. John feels stupid for stopping him, but at the same time he's a little relieved. Sure, right now was awkward and Dirk isn't happy anymore, but if they'd followed through it might have legitimately hurt their friendship. So he can handle this. He can handle Dirk losing all that softness and all his joy... <em>damn</em>.</p><p>John slumps back into the couch and finishes the lasagna in several more bites, scowling at the table in front of them. He laughs like he's supposed to, and shrugs. "Aren't I always?" There's still some meat sauce in the bottom of the container, so he lets his last breadstick soak it up as he opens his water to drink.</p><p> </p><p>"It's mostly my thing." Dirk argues, like he's supposed to. He'd still barely touched his food, feeling even less hungry now than he had before. John would want him to eat, but even so, Dirk wasn't confident that he would get sick for real this time, with the way his stomach was churning.</p><p>Instead, he closes up his takeout container, sitting back on the couch and adjusting the heating pad between his legs, and decides to focus on the movie, instead. Something about this guy's wife going missing on their wedding anniversary. This stood a chance of being the first movie he'd actually paid attention to with John, so he might as well get the exposition.</p><p>He didn't think they'd be talking much any time soon.</p><p> </p><p>Of course John wants him to eat, but right now wasn't the best time to be pushy, he felt. Things seemed brittle between them, and John can't stop thinking about how he kind of wished he didn't stop them. Not only for the potential ramifications to their friendship, but <em>fuck</em> he missed him. They'd barely been together, but it stuck with John, even after all this time.</p><p>He tears the breadstick in half and holds it out to Dirk, red and soft. "Nah. You're kind of the opposite of that." He, like always, is too focused in Dirk to pay attention to the movie.</p><p> </p><p>"Fair enough." Dirk glances over when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye, seeing John holding out half the breadstick for him. Of course. Normally he might have refused, but he didn't think he had it in him to bicker with John quite as much as usual. Instead, he spares John a brief glance, giving him a single nod as he took the bread from his hand.</p><p>Dirk takes a few bites - it wasn't warm, and almost doughy when it went down, which didn't help the stomach situation - and finishes off his half after a minute or so. He didn't look back to John for long, but he flicked his eyes from the screen again just long enough to say: "Thanks."</p><p> </p><p>It was something, at least. John finishes his own and lick the sauce from his fingers. "Sure." He keeps Dirk in his peripherals as he tries to focus on the movie, but he's too lost in his own head, thinking about the kiss and about how he messed things up again.</p><p>Felt a little like whiplash.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk didn't try to stir up conversation that wasn't there. He didn't know what to say to John. He didn't even know what he was feeling, at this point. Everything had been so overwhelming, and now he was just... numb. It was easier not to think about it when he had a decent distraction in the movie.</p><p>Eventually, Dirk was able to bring himself to say something. It wasn't anything more substantial than commentary, but it was still an olive branch that he hadn't been expecting himself to give. </p><p>(But it helped that he could tell John was worried, by the way he kept glancing over at him.)</p><p>"Are we supposed to be rooting for this guy? He's kind of an asshole."</p><p> </p><p>It's enough. John aims a tentative smile at him before shrugging. "I dunno. I don't think anyone in this movie is worth rooting for. They're all kinda messed up." He turns, just subtly, toward Dirk, crossing one leg over the other.</p><p>"But maybe that's the point."</p><p> </p><p>"I mean, it is. That's exactly the point. But as a viewer, there's naturally an antagonist in the story. It's meant to be Amy, but Nick is a compellingly awful piece of shit. It's difficult not to sympathize with her betrayal, and want her plan to work, however morally gray it is." Dirk says, glancing over to John. He spots the small smile, and realizes he'd made the right move. Maybe tonight wasn't ruined after all.</p><p>He offers John a slight smile of his own, and while it wasn't anywhere near as joyful as it was at the ranch, it was genuine.</p><p>"Maybe that just makes me sound like a sociopath, but it's a sound point, and I'll stand by it."</p><p>Dirk keeps up his commentary throughout the rest of the movie, though, his argument is a little unfounded by the end, because even he couldn't deny that they were both shitty people - but he kept it up just for the sake of bickering with John. It was nice. It felt almost natural again, by the time the credits were rolling.</p><p>By then, Dirk was sitting crisscross on the couch with an elbow on his knee, chin propped up in his palm. His heating pad was beside him now, after his thighs had gotten a little too warm a while back. He breathed a sigh, sitting back against the cushions and stretching out his legs.</p><p>"Not that I wouldn't love to fight you over another dubious movie plot, but I should probably get home soon. I have work to do tomorrow."</p><p> </p><p>Towards the end, John gives up the argument that he was really only holding for banter. "Nah, I get it. Maybe the writers figured you'd take his side cause he's a guy. When did this movie come out? Doesn't matter, they still do it today." John rolls his eyes and only talks for a moment about how people were supposed to think a cheating guy is just 'boys being boys', using the example of Zeus and Hera in most modern media portrayals just briefly so he doesn't sound like a huge nerd.</p><p>"Just saying, playing Hera off as a villain is tired as hell."</p><p>Things felt better between them, and when Dirk suggests going home, it doesn't scare John. "Yeah. We can argue about movies any time." He tries not to think about the kiss. "I'll send over the rest of the files after I drop you off, alright?" He probably should have already, but there were bigger things to focus on. "You wanna get your stuff together? I'll get the car started."</p><p> </p><p>John conceding to his argument was new. But everything about today was a little new, wasn't it? Dirk feels a twist in his stomach, and quickly escorts his thoughts firmly away. <em>Not now.</em></p><p>Dirk sits up from his stretch, grabbing his boots from under the coffee table to start lacing them up. When John mentions the files, it takes him a second or two to put the pieces together. He'd almost forgotten about all the pictures.</p><p>He glances up to look at John, his boot half laced.</p><p>"I sent over all the pictures I liked already. You don't have to send me your album of duplicates." He quirks his brow slightly. "Just the videos are fine."</p><p> </p><p>John slips his own shoes on, tidying up the table before heading over toward the door. He rolls his eyes, leaning on the frame while he waits. "Pleb. You have no taste for the fine art of photography." His expression drops as he remembers Dave's again.</p><p>It didn't hurt as much, so maybe he could get over it eventually.</p><p>"Fine, I'll just send the videos, then. Just get the heating pad and the other stuff."</p><p> </p><p>It's almost a moment of deja vu for Dirk, when John complains about his supposed lack of artistic skill. Dave had said almost the exact same thing to him once. He wondered what he would think about all of he pictures John took.</p><p>He wondered what he would think about the kiss.</p><p>He clears his throat, finishing up the laces on his second boot, and moving to stand.</p><p>Dirk grabbed his takeout - already having his wallet, keys, and phone on his person - and starts towards John like he's ready to go. Though when John speaks, he pauses to blink at him, like he genuinely didn't understand why John would want him to bring the heating pad along with him.</p><p>"You bought the heating pad, dude. It's yours."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, and I bought it for you. You need it right now anyway." Sensing a new argument, John walks back to gather the bag he got at the pharmacy, stuffing the still warm heating pad inside before taking it with him.</p><p>"Don't be stubborn!" He holds the door open for him.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not being stubborn," Dirk says, stubbornly. He felt sort of childish that John had completely ignored his argument in favor of just grabbing the heating pad for him. John knew Dirk well enough that he would know he'd argue. For some reason, the realization just makes something in his chest sink.</p><p>Dirk stuffs his free hand in his pocket as he brushed past John out into the hallway, not arguing his point anymore as he starts for the exit door. It was probably dark outside by now.</p><p> </p><p>"Mhmm." John doesn't bother bickering this time. He's still feeling a little nervous about whatever happened earlier, worried Dirk might spiral. "I'd never use it anyway. You can pay me back somehow later on. Or don't, seriously."</p><p>Once they're in the car, he plops the bag in Dirk's lap, starting up the engine.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. Thank you."</p><p>During the movie, things had been alright. They'd been talking. Holding conversation - even if it was just bickering without substance. The difference now was that they didn't have the TV as a buffer. And while Dirk didn't feel quite as uncomfortable as he had directly after... <em>what happened</em>, he was still struggling to move past it.</p><p>What was he supposed to say? Should he apologize again? Would that make things worse, somehow?</p><p>He buckles his seatbelt, and decides silence would be the best solution for both of them.</p><p> </p><p>John drums his fingers on the wheel after he buckles in, hesitating as though he wanted to keep talking, but that'd just make things weird again. So he allows the silence as he drives Dirk home, even though it feels uncomfortable.</p><p>When they reach his apartment, John idles the car near the entrance. "Goodbye." Hopefully his smile doesn't look to nervous, or too yearning, when he turns it on Dirk.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk didn't look back at John until the car had stopped in front of his apartment building. He gathered his takeout from the floorboard, opening the pharmacy bag in his lap to place it inside alongside the heating pad. It was cold now.</p><p>The smile on John's face, tentative and unsure, made something in Dirk's chest squeeze tight. Dirk was silent for a second or two too long, before he darted his eyes away, and gave a quick nod, the returning smile on his face strained. He luckily spotted his shades in the cupholder right then, grabbing them like a lifeline and slipping them back on his face.</p><p>He opened the car door, hesitating just long enough to look back to John when he spoke. It felt like a mistake. He was afraid of what he might see.</p><p>"...Bye, John."</p><p> </p><p>The smile looked wrong. Fake, almost. John feels like he'd rather go back to seeing barely anything than something forced like this. His own smile falls, and John tries to shove down the guilt. Why was Dirk acting like this? Was it a blow to his pride, that he stopped him? He doesn't hope for anything more than that.</p><p>Maybe Dirk was just uncomfortable because he wanted to get laid. But John didn't trust himself not to do or say something stupid if he agreed to it.</p><p>"Yeah..." But. He doesn't want this to put a rift between them. Right before it looks like Dirk is about to leave, he catches his wrist, lifts it, brushes his lips over the heel of his thumb. Then he releases him, putting the car back in drive, foot on the breaks. "See you later?" He keeps his attention on the mirrors, worried he might see something negative.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk hadn't had time to think about what he was feeling. Or, more importantly, what <em>John</em> was feeling. He'd made a few guesses, in the short time he'd had to think about it all. But the conclusion he came to wouldn't have explained why John just kissed his hand.</p><p>He was stunned for a moment, a genuine look of confusion flashing over his expression before the mask slipped back on.</p><p>John probably just felt bad for him. Dirk wasn't being very subtle about the humiliation he felt at being rejected; as much as he might hate to admit it, it was true.</p><p>After a few seconds, Dirk swallows the lump in his throat, and nods.</p><p>"Yeah. We're cool. I'll see you later."</p><p>He gets out of the car, and doesn't look back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think after the next chapter is posted, where some heavy discussion happens in regards to what John did to Dirk, I'll be starting a new story and put it in a collection so I can drop some of the heavier tags. Also I think with this posted ill be over 200k words and that is frankly a little silly, so it might be time to break it loose</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter covers what happened in chapter one; it isn't very graphic, but it's a detailed discussion between two friends, and as such, it's kind of a heavy chapter. If you aren't comfortable with reading about it, I'll give a quick summary at the end, as well as a question as to how the rest of the posting goes.</p><p>But in lighter news, I got a PC again! It runs really well, too, and I hope this means I'll be able to upload possibly every few days until we get caught up! (Because after about 8 months without a computer, and I'm desperate to play some games and watch some movies again, you know?)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It probably wasn't worth it to put so much effort into her hair just to go get ice cream with her friend. But it also wasn't every day she and Dirk hung out together! And Roxy swears, it's like some weird mental conditioning - whenever she goes to spend time in public with Dirk, she always makes sure her hair is perfect. Probably to try and combat his own efforts. Or maybe just to match? It didn't really matter, they had the best hair together and that was the long-and-short of it.</p><p>Her timing is a little off, because she's still in the bathroom when Dirk texts that he's here, so she jets outside after grabbing the rest of her things, waving as she runs for his truck.</p><p>"Dirk!" She takes a running jump into the passenger's seat, slamming the door behind her. After clipping her seatbelt in, Roxy pulls out her phone, ready to document the little trip. Sure, she knew Dirk had some stuff he needed to get off his chest, but that didn't mean it couldn't be fun when it wasn't serious. "Which place are we headed? Cold Stone has some good shit, but don't ever let me get any size bigger than the small."</p><p> </p><p>Relief washes over him in a wave when his best friend leaps into his shitty truck, and he couldn't resist the smile that tugged up the corners of his mouth. God, he's missed her.</p><p>"Hey, Rox. You look great."</p><p>Today was the day. After his last meeting with John, Dirk had made the decision very quickly that he needed to talk to Roxy. In retrospect, he might have been an idiot for not realizing it sooner.</p><p>The night John had dropped him off, Dirk had gone upstairs as quick as he could. When he'd unlocked the front door to see Dave and his boyfriend, curled up asleep on the futon together, and felt an undeniable wave of <em>resentment</em>-</p><p>He'd tried to ignore it.</p><p>When he threw a blanket over the two of them on the way to his bedroom, Karkat stirred, opening his eyes to look up at Dirk and asked: "<em>How was your date?</em>"</p><p>He'd tried to ignore it.</p><p>When John sent him the videos from the ranch-</p><p>He'd texted Roxy at 4 in the morning, and made an ice cream date three days later.</p><p>And here they were.</p><p>"I'm buying you a large. You know me better than that."</p><p> </p><p>Roxy stretches her legs out before her, toes bumping the underneath of the glove compartment. "<em>We</em> look great! We always do." She returns his little smile with a grin of her own, taking this moment to really look at him. He seemed happier lately, but it could just be that they haven't seen one another in a while.</p><p>"Ugh. I never finish the large. At least meet me in the middle?" She pouts, not caring that it won't make a difference.</p><p> </p><p>"Split it with me." Dirk shrugs, knowing he wouldn't finish his either. It made the most sense for them both, really, and ended up being cheaper. This wasn't his first rodeo. Dirk glances over his shoulder as he reverses his truck, getting back on the road and starting their drive. The ice cream place was a little out of the way, but Dirk would be getting on the interstate, and he was a fast driver regardless.</p><p>"And get whatever you want. Consider it an olive branch, for me being an evasive asshole for the past couple months."</p><p> </p><p>"Offering to buy me something so you can have some too? Sloppy, Dirk." Roxy mimes shaking her head in disappointment before curling her legs up beneath her in the seat, looking at him with a new intensity. She's smiling, almost like she's waiting for something.</p><p>And, well. She is.</p><p>"Okay, so. <em>Spill,</em> Strider."</p><p> </p><p>Once Dirk had merged onto the highway, he brought up his left leg to put his foot on the seat, and leans his knee against the door. He knew it tended to make Dave want to hurl when he did this while pushing 80 on the road, but it really wasn't a big deal.</p><p>"Spill what?" Dirk tries being coy, but he already knew it was pointless, so the neutral expression his face had fallen into wavered, his mouth twitching.</p><p> </p><p>Roxy had never been bothered by it herself. She trusted Dirk, and knew how comfortable it was to sit with your legs up in a car. Probably better for the back, too.</p><p>"Come on, D Stri. Unless you want to have this talk after we get our ice cream, still sitting at one of the tables. Where you'd be talking about personal stuff in public."</p><p> </p><p>He was going to tell her now anyway, but ugh. She really knew exactly how to pull his strings. That was supposed to be his thing.</p><p>Despite his comfort in this new sitting position, he still shifts a little in his seat before he brings himself to speak. He wasn't quite sure where to start. But he needed to get the important shit out of the way first.</p><p>"...I'm having boy problems. Though, for once, it doesn't have to do with Jake. Not really, anyway. Surprising, I know. Never thought I'd see the day I'd pry my desperate little claws out of that particular dumbass." Dirk says, slightly ribbing at himself out of habit, just to lessen the blow of opening up.</p><p> </p><p>When he squirms, she knows she hit that nail on the head. Roxy grips her knees in each hand, pushing downward to help her arch her back. She knows he'll break, she just had to give him some time.</p><p>To help, she turns to stare out the windshield, giving him as much privacy she can in the moment. His first statement makes her nervous, and she has to physically bite her tongue to keep from mentioning Jake until he reassures her it isn't him. But that only makes her curiosity soar.</p><p>Roxy suddenly feels like she's vibrating in her seat as she waits for the break in his admission. Internally, she's groaning that it's about time he got over Jake, those two really weren't a good fit in the later days and she desperately wanted her friends to be happy again. But she doesn't so much as imply this, not wanting to make Dirk more uncomfortable.</p><p>Instead, she turns back to him, eyes wide as she leans as far as her belt will allow over the center console. "And??? You can't just leave me hanging there, Dirk!"</p><p> </p><p>"And... it's complicated." Dirk sighs out, after a minute or so of thoughtful silence. Even now, he didn't know how to break this to Roxy. He felt wrong lying to her, but he also didn't want to fuck up another of John's friendships by breaking the news of... how they met.</p><p>"But I think I seriously fucked up."</p><p> </p><p>Roxy waits for the juicy details, but doesn't expect what he says next. The humor slips out of her expression, and now this felt less like the potential for gabbing and more like Dirk reaching out to a friend. She should have known.</p><p>"Relationships are always complicated, Dirk... just sometimes you focus on the bad more than the good and it's hard to get past it." She bites her lip, thinking how to bring the moment back up. "You blame yourself too much for things anyway. Are you two together yet? Or is that what makes it complicated?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk couldn't accept the comfort she tried to offer in the beginning. He wasn't sure if she'd still be offering it after this. "It's one part of a myriad of shit that makes it complicated, yes. I..."</p><p>Dirk changes lanes as he trails off, getting over to take the exit towards downtown. He was driving a little less recklessly, and that probably had everything to do with how tense he was growing in his seat. Once he reaches the red light at the end of the exit, he slows the car to a stop, and wrings at the worn leather of his steering wheel. He doesn't notice the light switch to green until he's honked at from behind, and he quickly makes his turn.</p><p>He realizes he still hadn't said anything. Dirk grits his teeth, staying on the road for a few moments longer before pulling over, into the parking lot of a strip mall that was walking distance from the Cold Stone.</p><p>God. He couldn't believe he was doing this.</p><p>He doesn't look at her.</p><p>"...Roxy, listen. I have to tell you something that you're not going to like. But I need you to promise that you'll try to understand my perspective."</p><p> </p><p>He was nervous. That in and of itself was a bit of a red flag, but it doesn't really strike her that this was some Big Shit until he misses the green light. It's Roxy's turn to squirm in her seat, and she places both feet flat on the floor of the truck cabin anxiously.</p><p>Still, she waits. This wasn't the kind of thing to probe about, she felt. They pull into a parking space, and Roxy feels something twist in her belly as she faces him again. "Dirk..." Her voice is tight, worried, and she doesn't try to pretend this was a casual conversation between friends anymore.</p><p>Roxy swallows. "... I'll try. What's going on?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk swallows.</p><p>"You remember that party you had at your place a while back, where you had those roulette bottles of clear alcohol? I accidentally poisoned myself with Everclear and got way too fucked up?" He asks, like he didn't remember trying to find Roxy with the purpose of complaining about the bottles, only for her to find him first. He remembered she'd been delighted that he was loosening up, but worried at the same time. She might have been the one to tell him to go to bed. He couldn't remember. There were some gaps in his memory that night.</p><p>"I met him that night." Dirk was being vague. He still wanted to dance around the point. He couldn't.</p><p>He was still gripping the steering wheel tight.</p><p>"I managed to make it upstairs to sleep off the alcohol."</p><p> </p><p>Roxy thinks for a moment, face still creased with worry. It'd been... a long time ago if it was the same party she was picturing. Dirk had been <em>wasted</em>. "Several months back? I think so." She wracks her brain for that particular guest list, but it had been a big party, bigger than most, with a lot of people she hadn't met before.</p><p>Her anxiety only tightens in her belly as she waits silently for him to continue.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. That one. So, I made it upstairs, after... whatever I was doing. Fuck if I can remember, at this point." Dirk clears his throat. He was stalling, as he let the seconds pass. Looking for words that he already knew - things he'd planned to say days in advance.</p><p>“He, uh."</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>"Came inside, while I was still passed out, and he...”</p><p>Dirk felt like he was going to be sick from his nerves. He couldn’t say it.</p><p><em>God</em>, but he had to say it. How would they ever have a chance at moving past this, if he couldn't acknowledge it for what it was?</p><p>He leans forward to rest his forehead on the steering wheel, between his hands.</p><p>“He raped me."</p><p> </p><p>Time stretches on and Dirk is getting more and more nervous about this. Roxy can feel herself starting to shake, and before he even says it, she knows. "<em>Dirk</em>," she whispers, horrified as she waits for the ground to drop out from beneath her.</p><p>And when it does, she covers her mouth, eyes pinched shut. This had happened <em>in her own home.</em> She felt responsible. Roxy's eyes start to water, and she fights it off, not wanting to make Dirk feel even worse. She could cry for him later.</p><p>When she speaks again, her voice wavers, weak. "What do you mean, it's <em>complicated?</em> Dirk, oh my <em>god</em>..." Her words crack with a sharp, sudden sob, but she reels that back in as well. She tries one more time, voice stony but still quiet. "Who did it?"</p><p> </p><p>As if his shriveled little heart could have broken any more than it already had, Dirk feels immediately guilty after admitting the truth. He could hear the upset in Roxy's voice - the barely suppressed tears threatening to spill, and felt like absolute shit.</p><p>He made Roxy cry.</p><p>And even though he knew it was coming, Dirk still closed his eyes when she asked.</p><p>"Roxy-"</p><p> </p><p>She sniffs and swipes her palms over her eyes, smearing her makeup just a little before trying again. At first, she assumed it was someone she didn't know. She wanted his name. But now, with the way Dirk wasn't looking at her, the way he hesitated...</p><p>She's terrified it's someone she <em>does</em> know. "Who <em>did</em> it, Dirk?"</p><p> </p><p>There was a split second where Dirk wanted to bolt. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in almost twenty years - where he wanted to cover his ears and squeeze his eyes shut, and pretend like he was anywhere else as things fell to pieces around him.</p><p>He was scared.</p><p>And when he said the single word, he knew he didn't need to clarify any further than a first name.</p><p>"John."</p><p> </p><p>She has a few moments of blissful ignorance; John who? Not <em>that</em> John, he would <em>never</em>- But she can't hold onto it forever, and when she finally starts to accept it, Roxy wants to throw up. "Not- god. Egbert?" She desperately wants to reject it, but Dirk wouldn't lie to her about anything, and especially not this.</p><p>Roxy can't say anything for several long seconds, staring into the distance as she reconciles the John she knew, the John she'd been with, with the monster that hurt her friend.</p><p>She whips out her phone and starts scrolling through her contacts.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Roxy!</em>" Dirk's hand darts out before he can stop it, grabbing hold of Roxy's wrist a little rougher than he intended in his hurried desperation. He's yet again overcome by a wave of guilt, jerking his hand back quickly, and giving her a pleading look.</p><p>There was more frantic emotion on his face than he'd openly showed to her in a long time - longer than he could remember.</p><p>"<em>Please.</em> Just... listen to me, okay?"</p><p> </p><p>It's shocking enough and during such a tense moment that she gasps, jerking in his grip. Roxy stares at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in her surprise. "Are you <em>defending</em> him, Dirk?" She knew he had self-worth problems, but this was far more than that. This was so much worse. Her head shakes from side to side, but she drops the hand holding her phone into her lap.</p><p>"...What do you mean, <em>you</em> seriously fucked up? The only way you fucked up is by not getting him registered as a <em>sex offender</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not <em>defending</em> him! I just--" Dirk realizes abruptly that his voice had raised, and he sits back in his seat, his head knocking against the headrest as he runs a troubled hand down his face.</p><p>He takes a second to compose himself, as well as he could after an outburst like this.</p><p>"I'm only trying to tell you that there's a lot more to the situation that I haven't told you yet. You still reserve the right to be angry at him, and I'm not telling you that you're wrong for that." Dirk says, his tone forced flat and factual as he says what he needs to, until he tries to plead with her again. "But before you go on a warpath, would you please just listen to me?"</p><p> </p><p>Her teeth dig into her lower lip again, hard enough that she's sure the sensitive skin will bruise, swell up, maybe even bleed. This was... a whole lot to take in in such a short period of time. Roxy shakes, crossing her arms over her chest to try and control it.</p><p>"I don't see how 'a lot more to the situation' will make anything any better." But, once more, she reminds herself that she trusts Dirk. He may not make the best decisions for himself, but she has to believe he wouldn't be this <em>stupid</em>. "What happened? You told me you two were <em>friends</em>, right? Why would you be his friend after that?"</p><p> </p><p>"We were friends. We <em>are</em> friends." Dirk corrects. He looks over at Roxy, judging her expression. He wasn't sure he'd be able to do it again until he was done explaining himself. He drops his gaze down to his lap.</p><p>"The morning after it happened, I, uh." God, this was embarrassing. But hadn't all of it been embarrassing already? Roxy of all people knew how stupid Dirk was when he was being destructive to himself. He shut his eyes again, almost wincing, and spoke the first sentence in a hurry, because she knew Roxy would hate it just as much as everyone else.</p><p>"I texted him to ask if we could hook up. But I was expecting it to be a situation where I indulged in a freaky fucking kink of mine, then kicked his ass and never spoke to him again. I wasn't expecting him to ask me on a fucking <em>date.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>She returns his look, still angry, still upset, but <em>listening</em>. She could give him that much. And even though it wouldn't redeem John, she at least wanted to make sure he wasn't completely evil. But god, it fucking <em>hurt</em> to find out he'd done something so terrible.</p><p>So she listens, finger still poised over her phone screen as though she's going to wait for him to finish and then immediately... what, call him to yell? Text? Block and delete his contact entirely? That last one for sure, at least.</p><p>Her expression pinches when Dirk starts his explanation, and her chest aches for him, that he'd do something so terrible to himself. So it's a surprise when the last word makes her bark out a sharp laugh. "Wow. Yeah, you both sure are dumb."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk doesn't even try to defend himself, just shrugging a shoulder as if to agree. They were, weren't they? Dirk in particular, for not turning him down - and better yet, for asking to have sex with him in the first place. He keeps going.</p><p>"I thought it was weird of him, you know? That he was bold enough to actually try and make up for what happened to me by taking me out, before he gave me what I was after. I thought we were on the same page, at first. I would agree to let him take me out, then he would fuck me, and we would pretend nothing ever happened, for both of our sakes."</p><p>And here was the point of no return. The catch that had Dirk latching onto John like the lonely, greedy little leech that he was.</p><p>"But, the date was... god, Roxy, it was..." Dirk huffs a laugh at how stupid he'd been for denying it. "It was incredible. I made him hop a fence with me, and we played mini-golf together. He made me laugh a lot. He's actually funny, when he's not playing it up to try and make a show of it." He shakes his head. "Figures the first real date anyone has ever taken me on, I end up getting swept off my fuckin' feet."</p><p>He was silent for a moment or so, losing the fondness that had started to spark in his eyes.</p><p>"I had a lot of fun with him. And I knew from the beginning that he had a... <em>thing</em> for me, that was more than sexual. But I slept with him anyway. And I didn't realize until he asked me out again the next morning that I had gotten myself into something a lot deeper than I bargained for." Dirk pursed his lips, exhaling a shaky sigh. "I don't think he realized it either."</p><p> </p><p>As angry as Roxy is, she can't blame Dirk. She'd been on the receiving end of that charm herself, until they decided they were better as friends. But now that she knows what John's done, it taints the sweet memories. It's kind of weird to think that Dirk saw that side of him <em>after</em> meeting the worst part.</p><p>Roxy twists in her seat so she can rest a hesitant hand on his knee. It was sad, wasn't it, that the first person to make Dirk happy like this started out by doing something unforgivable.</p><p>She tries to take a tentative out, interjecting with a quiet voice. "Then who's to say the next person to do it won't do it better?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk knew that he was in a unique situation. He knew that what happened between him and John was a twisted mangle of moral ambiguity, that should have ended as soon as it began. But they were both in the wrong place at the right time, and exactly the type of fucked up to let it continue. Was it really so wrong to try and move past their mistakes?</p><p>The question prompts him to tell Roxy something that he knew she didn't want to hear.</p><p>"He's proven to me that he's better than what happened that night, Roxy."</p><p> </p><p>Her head is shaking in disbelief before he even finishes the sentence. "You know I can't believe that. I can't believe <em>you</em>, Dirk." Roxy covers her face, a mournful little noise squeaking up past her lips.</p><p>"<em>You</em> can't just believe that. What makes you think he won't ever do it again?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk shouldn't be surprised that Roxy didn't believe him, but it still hurt a little. He doesn't think about that, though. Instead, he was thinking about her question.</p><p>What <em>did</em> make Dirk think that?</p><p>He'd decided almost from the beginning that he could trust John. And yeah, maybe he was a little rash at coming to that conclusion, just because John was giving him attention, and treating him nicely on their first date. But why did he still believe that, even after understanding he was being reckless?</p><p>The answer was obvious, once he gave it some thought.</p><p>"He respects me."</p><p> </p><p>Roxy winces almost imperceptibly at his answer. She doesn't want to combat it, but she isn't convinced. So she licks her lips, looking out the window before back at Dirk. "But what if he does it to someone else?" Her voice is quiet again, pleading. How could he be so forgiving?</p><p>"What if he's done it before, Dirk?"</p><p> </p><p>A small, grim smile forms on Dirk's face. Dave had asked him the exact same thing the night that he'd found out. It was only fair that he should ask her the question he'd posed to Dave in return.</p><p>"You know John. Do you really think that he's the type of person to do that shit to anyone else? And better yet, do you really think he's the type of person to do something like that to me, without it just being a massive, idiotic mistake on his account? He's not a monster, Roxy."</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>do</em> know John. And I <em>knew</em> he'd never do that to anyone. But he <em>did!</em> It doesn't matter if it was one massive, idiotic mistake, because if he made it once, he could definitely do it again."</p><p>She feels like crying again. Dirk was so sure about him, and Roxy had been so sure about him, but she was wrong, and he could be too.</p><p>After a few calming breaths, Roxy nods. "Okay, we can assume that he's changed and won't ever do it again, hypothetically. So what's going on now, then?" She's pretty sure this admission was only a small (small! How ridiculous, to consider it small) part of what Dirk really wanted to talk about. Like a hurdle he had to get over to dig into the meat of his, fuck, <em>'boy problems'</em>. How could he have prefaced this conversation in such a banal way?</p><p> </p><p>Dirk was quiet as he waited for Roxy to breathe, and calm herself down. He couldn't deny that she had a point. And maybe once, it would have changed his mind about being close with John. But that this point, he couldn't think of much of anything that could convince him that John didn't seriously, <em>deeply</em> regret what he'd done.</p><p>Especially when it cost him his best friend.</p><p>When Roxy prompts him to continue, he looks away from her again, staring out the windshield at a little bird hopping in the parking lot, just for something to keep his eyes busy.</p><p>"...Right."</p><p>He drums his fingers on his thigh, starting to pick at a small tear in his jeans.</p><p>"I wasn't lying when I told you that we're friends now. I, uh. Didn't take him up on the second date. I was worried about the commitment of what he was looking for with me. And then there was some shit with Jake..." Dirk trails off. "It's not important. Things were just weird between us for a while, no thanks to me, but eventually we mutually decided to give the friendship thing a shot."</p><p>Dirk lapsed into silence again, not sure how to breach the subject of the Dave thing. Realistically, he didn't realize that it had been a turning point in their friendship until after the fact. John got to see some ugly parts of him that he much rather would have kept hidden.</p><p> </p><p>As attuned to him as she is now, after this intense discussion, Roxy picks up on the fidget right away. She reaches to nudge his hand away from the tear before he ends up ripping his jeans into jorts, and coaxes him to hold her hand instead. Touch averse as he's always seemed, this was a hand-holding moment. And if he fought it, she would tell him it was for her sake. She isn't above guilting him into accepting comfort if she can.</p><p>There's another story in there, especially if it involves Jake, but Roxy lets it slide. He'd tell her if it was important.</p><p>"So you're friends now."</p><p> </p><p>Some of the tension in Dirk's shoulders visibly seems to relax when Roxy takes his hand, and he gives her a genuine, if not brief, little smile to express his gratitude. He takes a deep breath though, and it slips away just as fast as it had come.</p><p>"Yes." A pause. "And Dave found out what happened. He's been..." Dirk sighs. "'Fucked up' doesn't do it enough justice, but it's what he's been ever since. Karkat has helped him a lot. But John was a complete wreck." Dirk rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand, because he knew that Roxy knew exactly how he could be with people, when they had problems like this. Treating them like his little projects, when things didn't go his way. He hated it about himself.</p><p>If only he could realize when he was actually doing it.</p><p>"I couldn't stand to see them hating each other. I tried to fix things myself."</p><p> </p><p>Roxy winces. She can imagine just how Dave might have taken the news. And it probably made her reaction seem tame in comparison. There's a part of her that aches for the lost friendship - they'd been so close. But she can't stand the thought of pitying John after this.</p><p>Even when Dirk admits to trying to fix things. "How'd that go?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk watched the little bird in the parking lot fly away.</p><p>"John, uh. Found out what I was trying to do, and lost it on me. Which I deserved, obviously. I was being an unfair asshole, trying to force them together again. I understood it." Though, the shit he'd been trying to pull with him and Dave really didn't end up being the issue, did it?</p><p>"But that wasn't... what he was actually mad about, I guess." Dirk breathes a sigh through his nose. "He started yelling at me about how Dave was right to hate him for what he did. That I..."</p><p>Dirk didn't know why he was hesitating to say it. It wasn't like Roxy didn't know the truth already, by this entire situation. The words still rang clear in Dirk's head, the desperation in John's voice as he asked him not to leave.</p><p>
  <em>You're important, Dirk! You matter!</em>
</p><p>"That I didn't care about what happened to me." Dirk still stared at the empty parking lot.</p><p>"...I ran off and went home. Locked myself in my room. It must have freaked John out, because he went as far as to message Dave to get him to check on me." Dirk's hand twitched in Roxy's, like he needed to be picking at something. "It hurt me to hear him say it out loud, I guess. It's... It isn't something I like to get into."</p><p> </p><p>Once again, she wasn't about to take pity on John. So she feels a little defensive when she hears he yelled at Dirk for meddling. Her hand tightens momentarily around Dirk's before she forces herself to listen. Apparently, there was a whole lot to this story.</p><p>It takes her another moment to realize John was mad at him for the same reason Roxy was mad, and in her frustration, she convinces herself that it can't be true. She wants to hate him right now, so she ignores anything that'd make her feel otherwise.</p><p>Once more, she holds him just a little tighter, before he goes back to picking at his jeans or worse, himself.</p><p>"That doesn't make up for it, you know." But he <em>was</em> right.</p><p> </p><p>"I know that it doesn't. I'm not saying it does." Dirk relents, because as much as he might have rejected the point before, he could recognize that what John did might never be something Roxy <em>or</em> Dave could forgive him for. Let alone John himself.</p><p>Dirk was fucked up. He'd always known. It was just a matter of keeping other people from knowing. He couldn't stand the pity. The thought that anyone could look at him and think he was weak, careless or stupid. Dirk could handle anything. He was supposed to. He <em>had</em> to.</p><p>But somewhere along the way, he'd gotten softer. Exposing some of the more vulnerable and shameful parts of him, that he might normally have revolted at sharing. And he knew who the cause was.</p><p>"Dave let him into the apartment a few days later, and he apologized for upsetting me. But it... didn't make me feel like shit, for once." Dirk wasn't sure if he was able to put into words how much that moment had actually ended up meaning to him.</p><p>But his body seemed to have other plans, when his voice broke midway through his next sentence. There was a burning feeling in the back of his skull, somewhere behind his eyes. A lump in his throat. <em>Fuck.</em></p><p>"It was like I could tell that he wasn't looking at me like I w-was damaged goods, you know?"</p><p> </p><p>Of course it's as Roxy is getting her own emotions in check that Dirk starts to lose control of his. What he was saying mattered little to her, but apparently they meant enough to Dirk that he started to lose composure for the first time she's ever seen of him.</p><p>It's a jarring, horrible experience that makes her chest ache and almost heave as another sob tries to break free from her. "Oh, <em>Dirk</em>... You're <em>not</em>, I know you're not-" but this isn't the right thing to say; she knows he won't listen to her. Roxy pets his shoulder, fighting back tears once again. She hates that she can't do anything more without making him doubt her words, or pull away from her pity.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm s-sorry. Fuck." Dirk takes a shuddering breath, swiping his free hand roughly at his eyes, pushing his shades up in the process as he scrambles to get himself back under control. He couldn't unravel like this. Not now.</p><p>There was a voice in his head that told him <em>You're better than that.</em></p><p>There was another that asked him <em>Fuck're you cryin' for, brat?</em></p><p>Neither of them were his.</p><p>He takes his hand from Roxy's, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes.</p><p>"I don't know what's wrong with me." It isn't clear if he's talking about the crying, or something much broader. "Give me a sec."</p><p> </p><p>Roxy's expression is contorted with pain, and in a sad kind of way she's glad Dirk can't see it. <em>Fuck,</em> this was really weighing on him. This is... a whole new territory for her, because of all her friends, Dirk had always seemed to be the one who'd seemed unshakeable, at least when people were looking. It'd been kind of comforting to think about, but now it just felt selfish.</p><p>Roxy cries silently, feeling the trails making their way around the curve of her cheeks and dripping off her lashes, but she doesn't take her hands off of Dirk to wipe them away, even when he releases her. She holds him clumsily and ineffectively across the center console.</p><p>What did this mean? Had this been weighing on her friend long enough that he'd finally reached his breaking point? Or was Dirk changing? "It's okay to cry. It's healthy, so you just keep it coming. It's about time you let off some of that pressure." Her voice is getting a little gummy, congestion and mucous buildup starting to become obvious by her tone.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk takes a deep breath, holds it. His lip was trembling a little as he tried to keep it together, but he was failing miserably. The inhale had been meant to ground him and bring him back to himself. But then he felt Roxy awkwardly hugging him across the center console, murmuring reassurances to him -</p><p>And when he exhales, it's through a choked sob.</p><p>Something in him <em>breaks</em> in that moment. He presses his hands firmer against his eyes as he cries, as if he could hide it.</p><p>He cries for John. He cries for Jake. He cries for his Bro.</p><p>Most of all though, he cries for himself.</p><p>He didn't know how long he was out of it, sobbing in the front seat of his shitty pickup truck next to one of his favorite people in the world. But at some point, he'd slumped over, burying his face in the crook of her neck with his shades somewhere abandoned between the seat and the center console.</p><p>When he'd finally gone silent, sniffling and feeling somehow worse, somehow better, he sits up, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. His voice was a hoarse whisper.</p><p>"...I think I really like him, Roxy."</p><p> </p><p>Her body tenses, squeezing him tighter when Dirk breaks. It's the worst thing in the <em>world</em> to her when her friends cry, and it feels so much worse knowing that it's Dirk that turns to weep in her neck. To her credit, Roxy cries silently along with him, only a little ashamed to wipe her tears off on his shoulder. She needs to be steady for him right now, and what use would she be if she broke down? So she rubs his back, murmurs to him when she thinks she can hold a calm voice, and rides it out.</p><p>Dirk pulls back, and Roxy strokes the back of his head, surreptitiously wipes at the faintly visible makeup smeared on his shirt collar, and holds both of his hands in hers when he allows it.</p><p>Her eyes pinch shut, visibly unhappy with his admission. But after all that, how can she get upset with him? "... Okay. You know you're being pretty dumb though, right? But the heart wants what it wants, I guess." She holds a fleeting hope that maybe it's a temporary thing, and Dirk would get over him soon. But she knows Dirk doesn't really get over anyone. Especially not if he spent the better part of... god, how long has it been? Crying about him.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk huffs a slight laugh at that, rubbing at his cheeks one last time with his palm, sniffling a bit before he speaks. He already sounded a little better - at least, in the sense that he didn't seem like he was about to start crumbling all over again.</p><p>"I've been dumb from the beginning. None of you have hesitated to remind me of that." He admits, though he doesn't sound bitter as he sits back properly in the seat to face forward. He doesn't bother searching for his shades.</p><p>"I didn't expect it to turn out this way. Neither did he."</p><p> </p><p>Roxy still worries. She sits back in her seat and <em>worries</em> about him, because how can she trust that this is genuine and not just a long-play for his self-destruction? She wants to trust <em>him</em>, that he can tell what's going on between John and himself and not just... wanting affection from whoever will give it.</p><p>Because <em>god</em> he deserves affection, and he never gets enough.</p><p>"How did you expect it to turn out? And how can you be sure it isn't what he wants?"</p><p> </p><p>"I thought that I could be his friend. He and Dave always got along well enough. I didn't think that it was out of the realm of possibility for us." Dirk frowns, looking down at the steering wheel, his eyes tracing the worn symbol in the middle of the horn.</p><p>"In retrospect, it's understandable that he would get over me quickly. I made it blatantly clear that I was too much of a coward for a second date, and being friends with benefits was off the table."</p><p> </p><p>She stays silent for a while, still coming back from the emotional stress from earlier as she processes it all. "Okay, well. What do you <em>want</em> from him? If everything went the way it did in the perfect world in your head, what would the two of you be doing right now?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk seems like he needed to think about that. What <em>did</em> he want from John, ideally? Realistically, he already knew the answer to that.</p><p>"I don't like to think about the 'perfect world'. That isn't what I have." Dirk's brows knit just slightly. "I can't do relationships. I'm not..." Dirk trails off, looking momentarily frustrated that he couldn't find his words. "They don't work out for me. You know this."</p><p>And <em>he</em> knew that that wasn't the answer Roxy was asking for.</p><p>"...I guess in a perfect world, we would be back at the ranch he took me to. Maybe I could convince him to ride with me."</p><p> </p><p>She sniffs, wipes her nose, and rolls her eyes at him. "Come on, you <em>know</em> what I meant, Dirk! Do you want an actual..." Roxy huffs and scrubs a finger beneath her eye as she considers her words. "Do you want him on an emotional level, or a physical one?"</p><p>It's so frustrating that he's skirting the answer that for a moment his words don't quite sink in, until, "... What ranch?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk purposefully ignores her first question instead of focusing on the second. She'd asked him about the ranch, after all. That was a story in and of itself, right?</p><p>"One of his neighbors in the apartment complex he lives in works on a ranch. He didn't like either of us very much because of some shit I started, but John managed to talk him into giving me a free horseback riding lesson." Dirk didn't realize it, but that secret little smile he'd unintentionally reserved for John had started to tug at the corners of his mouth. "He knew about the thing I have for horses, and decided to surprise me with it a couple of days ago.</p><p>"I have pictures, if you want to see them."</p><p> </p><p>Oh <em>no.</em> Her boy was in deep, judging by that little curve of his lips. It split her heart with joy that he was apparently happy and dread that he was happy with someone who would do something so awful to him.</p><p>"Dirk." Roxy's lip trembles, and she wonders if she's not done crying after all. "Of <em>course</em> I want to see pictures."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk sits up a bit, grabbing his phone from his pocket. It didn't take him long to navigate to his photo gallery, opening the first picture that he'd saved to his phone - incidentally, his favorite. It was the sort of blurry one of him and John with the horse, when John had nearly dropped his phone.</p><p>He flicked through the rest of them slowly, including the one he'd sent to Dave, before he got to the paused screen of the video John had sent him the other night. He hurriedly locks his phone, as if to hide it.</p><p>"Dave lost his shit when I told him about it."</p><p> </p><p>Something in her softens as he swipes through the gallery. Dirk looks so happy, and as much as she hates John, the asshole did something <em>right.</em> Roxy feels a little guilty she didn't think of it first.</p><p>"Of course he did." Was Dave upset for the same reason she was, or because it was with John? ...Which she was also upset about. Maybe she should talk to Dave.</p><p>He clicks away from a video, and she's a little disappointed she won't get to see it, but she also has a lot to think about. After kicking off her shoes, Roxy draws her feet up onto the seat, knees to her chest. "Are you happy? <em>Really</em> happy?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk takes a moment to think about it. He didn't want to give Roxy an answer that wasn't completely honest. Which would mean he would need to explain what he'd done to mess it all up.</p><p>"Yeah. I am. But I, uh. I'm pretty sure I already blew any chance I had with him." He frowns, pocketing his phone.</p><p>"...After the horses, we went back to his apartment to have dinner. I don't know what came over me, but I, um. Ended up kissing him."</p><p>A pause.</p><p>"And he told me he didn't want it." Dirk huffs a pained exhale of a laugh.</p><p> </p><p>Her fingers dig into her knees. Of course he was happy; she could <em>see</em> it. And she doesn't much care for the fact that Dirk blew it aside from his sadness about it, until he explains that John stopped him.</p><p>That didn't make much sense, with the narrative she was currently spinning about John in her mind.</p><p>"He turned you down?" Roxy almost bites out something sharp and cruel about John's preferences, but that wouldn't help Dirk.</p><p> </p><p>"It was selfish of me, but I tried to reassure him at first. He was worried that he was manipulating me. I guess he thought that I was only kissing him because he did something nice for me." Dirk winces internally. He probably should have just stopped then, shouldn't he?</p><p>"...We got back into it for a while. But he stopped me again, and said he didn't think he was cut out to do the fuckbuddies thing with me."</p><p>Dirk admits, his tone a little flatter than the hurt he still felt inside might have otherwise portrayed.</p><p>"So I apologized. We watched a movie. I went home. Then I texted you."</p><p>He was leaving out a few key details, but he wasn't sure if he even wanted to get into the rest of the night, up until he sent the text to Roxy. It was embarrassing.</p><p> </p><p>That kind of flipped a lot of her perception on its head. She didn't think she was going to let the whole story convince her to forgive John, but it did make her think he was at least trying to be better.</p><p>But something wasn't quite clicking into place.</p><p>"So you wanted to talk about boy problems because he isn't into you?" It sounded pretty cut-and-dry from her perspective. Sure, he could have just wanted to tell her what he did, but then why go through all the trouble after trying to defend him?</p><p> </p><p>Dirk shifts in his seat, frowning. He almost looks sheepish as he fidgets this time, a defensive little furrow in his brow that showed in the tone of his voice. What was wrong with that?</p><p>"...Well, I didn't realize that I had feelings for him until the night that I texted you. I was panicking. You're good at shit like this. Who else was I supposed to talk to? Dave?"</p><p> </p><p>Something raises her suspicion, but she plays along. He would tell her if he wanted her to know, and after the heavy drop, she's sure it must just be something he's embarrassed by.</p><p>"If he's spending so much time with his beau, he might be more qualified than I am, absorbing all that romantic knowledge. But okay. So this is self-pity, 'he's not into me' ice cream then. Traditionally, that's a pint straight out of your freezer, but we can make this work."</p><p> </p><p>...Was that why he'd been instinctively drawn to ice cream? Jesus, he was such a stereotype, sometimes. He couldn't help but note that his Bro would be pretty fucking ashamed of him right now.</p><p>But that thought probably had something to do with the fact that he just had a minor mental breakdown.</p><p>Realistically though, it just makes him smirk a bit.</p><p>"Yeah. I'm gonna need you to comfort me the fuck up, Rox. I expect hair braiding and nail painting later."</p><p> </p><p>Roxy laughs into her knees, a short, sudden sound that isn't very close to her usual humor. But it's a step up. "You got it. Ice cream first." As soon as her shoes are pulled back on, she jumps from the cabin of the truck and walks around to meet Dirk.</p><p>"You couldn't park any closer, huh."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk takes his keys from the ignition, pocketing them before he hops out of the truck and manually locks it. He leaves his shades in the cab, abandoned between the seats.</p><p>"Fuck no. I gotta protect what's mine. The closer I park to the masses, the more likely I am to get hit." Dirk taps the hood of his truck with his knuckle, talking about it like a brand new Tesla instead of a rickety old duct-taped amalgamation of auto parts he'd bought off the side of the road when he was sixteen.</p><p>He must have been feeling a little better, getting all of that off his chest. At the very least, Roxy was an excellent distraction.</p><p> </p><p>"Ohhh, no, you definitely don't want a scratch in that nice paint job!" Roxy smiles at him, taking everything in. She really hopes whatever happens, he finds something good. Ideally it wouldn't be with John, but as she said, the heart wants what it wants.</p><p>And Dirk should get what he wants, at least once.</p><p>She offers up her arm after checking that she didn't still look like she just finished crying in the dark screen of her phone, and after a moment of thought, she blocks John's number. "Come on. We're getting cotton candy with gummy bears and sprinkles."</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>did</em> promise you anything you wanted. But if you're getting that, are you sure you wouldn't rather just eat some sugar packets instead?"</p><p>Dirk takes her arm without complaining about the open affection for once, starting the walk through the parking lot for the ice cream shop.</p><p>He hoped that Roxy didn't think of him any differently after his confession. After any of this, really. Though, he couldn't say that he wouldn't understand if she did judge him for it. He was fucked up. That was just a fact.</p><p>"...Hey, Rox. Thanks. For, uh. Listening to all my bullshit."</p><p> </p><p>"Sure, we can throw a few of those on top too!" She laughs a little, leaning into him for a moment. He'd changed. Just a bit. Leaving his shades behind, especially after crying (she wouldn't tell him he still looked a little bloodshot), easily holding her like this... he was doing better. She just wishes she could be happier about it.</p><p>"What are friends for, if not to listen to each others' bullshit? I'm here to listen to your bullshit anytime you need it, okay?" Roxy clutches his arm a little closer to herself. "I mean that."</p><p> </p><p>He didn't consider himself a very lucky person at all. But he must have stumbled upon quite a bit of it to land her as his best friend. He wasn't sure what he would do without her.</p><p>Dirk wasn't very good at expressing that as often as he probably should.</p><p>But he squeezes her arm, and when they get to the Cold Stone, he shuts his mouth and lets her order all the ridiculous toppings that she wanted, and split the ice cream with her just as promised.</p><p>And he knew that she knew it was one of the weird ways he chose to show her that he loved her.</p><p>Once his mouth was cold and his teeth felt like they were doused in a coating of sugar, Dirk hopped back in his truck to take her home, switching on the heat in a fit of chilliness. At least that worked, when his A/C didn't.</p><p>"I'm beginning to suspect that I'm ectothermic. That, or I'm going into a diabetic coma from those fucking gummy bears. Be prepared to haul my corpse into the tailgate and take over the wheel, if necessary."</p><p> </p><p>Of course she knew. Why else would Dirk flood his veins with sugar, if not a way for him to show affection? They don't talk about much inside while they eat, and she's fine with that. This was a break from all the garbage they just dumped out in the open, something sweet to make up for it.</p><p>"Why did you offer to take me out for ice cream if it was going to make you cold?"</p><p> </p><p>"Because you like ice cream." He answered simply, driving out of the pull-through parking space he'd left his truck in to get back on the road. He got comfortable in the driver's seat with his leg up, before sparing a glance to Roxy.</p><p>"...And because I needed to talk to you. It was a decent peace offering, to thank you for listening to my problems when I haven't been in touch over the past few weeks. I was partially expecting you to beat my ass over that."</p><p> </p><p>"You had some shit going on, so I can overlook it this time." Roxy shifts into her comfort pose as well, staring out the window. She was still unhappy, but that wasn't really helpful to Dirk right now.</p><p>"Hey, can I see the pictures again? I wanna look at the huge guy behind you some more."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk takes his phone from his pocket, offering it to her without a second thought. He doesn't realize just yet that he might have made a mistake, giving her free access to <em>everything</em> that John had sent him. Not yet, anyway.</p><p>"Don't get attached. I can't deny that he's sort of hot, but he was an asshole."</p><p> </p><p>"Nah, he mostly looks kind of scary." Despite everything, the pictures still make her smile as she scrolls through, hopping quickly over the one with John's face. She couldn't look at him right now.</p><p>"What are their names?" Dirk definitely found out all their names, and giving him something nice to talk about felt like the right call. Roxy lingers on a few of them where it looks like Dirk is smiling, and then taps play when she reaches the first video.</p><p> </p><p>"There were a lot of them, but the two you're seeing most in the pictures are Maplehoof and Snow. Maplehoof was the little white pony. Snow was the black mare that I was riding. Seems like she liked me. Though, that might have just been because she thought that my hair was hay- wait, Rox, I don't think that you should watch those--"</p><p>Dirk's ramble was cut off midway when he heard John's voice on the video, and his face started to burn. He <em>really</em> hadn't wanted Roxy to see it.</p><p>John had been talking to his phone on the sidelines while Dirk rode. Though, Dirk wasn't even sure if he knew just how much the video caught of it. Otherwise, he might not have been saying such sweet things about him.</p><p>How cute he was. How big he was smiling, when he fed Snow.</p><p>It was incredibly embarrassing just how much it made his heart flutter in his chest at being fawned over. By <em>John</em>, no less.</p><p> </p><p>Maplehoof was probably the sweetest thing she ever did see, and Roxy was instantly charmed. Which could be why, when John's voice filters through the phone's tiny speaker, she doesn't immediately tap away. She still scowls however, hurt and angry.</p><p>"Why don't you want me to watch them?"</p><p> </p><p>"It's nothing, they're just not that interesting. He filmed for too long. You should have seen the number of doubles he took from holding his finger on the button for too long. He's like a dad with the camera, you know?" Dirk says hurriedly, the excuses spilling from him much too quickly for someone that was supposed to be cool and collected, and not embarrassed to share a video that he thought was intimate. He was going the speed limit a little more than usual on the interstate.</p><p>He was reacting like a normal person might have reacted when his friend stumbled upon a sex tape.</p><p>Problem was, to Dirk, a sex tape would have been a lot <em>less</em> intimate.</p><p> </p><p>Roxy says nothing for a while, staring intently at her friend. He was freaking out like there was some incriminating information in the clips, and now she's curious enough to get over her discomfort with hearing John speak to find out just what it is.</p><p>Clearly it isn't something terrible or he'd be more insistent that she doesn't watch it, but the only other thing she can think of was... "Oh my god, did you <em>fall</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>No.</em> God, what is it with all of you guys expectin' me to fall off a horse? I'm coordinated enough to hop down from a tall place." Dirk's accent was creeping into his words the more flustered he got, but he could be grateful that he didn't drop a <em>y'all</em> at the very least.</p><p>Dirk huffs a sigh.</p><p>"It's nothing, I would just prefer you didn't watch it anymore, alright? I don't want you hearing all that shit."</p><p> </p><p>Okay, something was <em>clearly</em> going on now. Her curiosity was finally piqued, and Roxy lowers her feet to the floor again, hunching over the phone protectively. "What? What happens? Does the big guy yell at you for being bad at horses, is that what's got you so worked up?"</p><p> </p><p>What did she mean <em>what happens?</em> It was happening already.</p><p>...Did she seriously not think it was that big of a deal? Fuck. Maybe Dirk really was overreacting. He'd allowed himself to feel a little spark of hope at first, hearing John talk about him that way. But as embarrassing as the video still was for him, he couldn't help but think that maybe that hope was misplaced.</p><p>John was a nice enough guy that he probably talked like that about everyone.</p><p>Dirk breathes a sigh that was almost as frustrated as it was petulant as he hurries out his explanation, ignoring the twist in his chest. Anything to make this end quicker.</p><p>"I don't want you to hear John cheesing over me, alright? It's fucking humiliating."</p><p> </p><p>Oh. Roxy frowns and looks back down at the screen. She hadn't even noticed. But now it's obvious, John rambling about how nice it was to see Dirk like this. Was <em>that</em> what Dirk was all flustered about?</p><p>"I was trying to ignore him."</p><p> </p><p>"...Oh."</p><p>Dirk suddenly feels incredibly childish. Of course Roxy wasn't listening to him. She hated John right now - why would she have been? If Dirk would have kept his mouth shut, she probably wouldn't have even said anything about it. He brought this upon himself.</p><p>"You can, uh. Mute it then, if you want to. There's not much more than that." He mumbles, and if his face wasn't already red, he would have blushed. He merges off the highway, getting back on the streets. He wasn't too far from Roxy's place at this point.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay..." Roxy does just that, watching her friend out of her peripheral. He was in <em>deep</em>. She silently finishes one of the clips, and leans back in her seat. She was almost home and wanted to figure a few more things before she had no reason to linger in his truck. Not that he'd kick her out or anything.</p><p>"You, uh. You like him a lot."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk instinctively opened his mouth to deny it like it was second nature, but quickly remembered that there was no point. He'd already confessed it to her himself. There was nothing more to hide about it.</p><p>"...Yeah."</p><p>He sighs, slowing to a stop at a red light and starting to pick at the frayed seam of his steering wheel.</p><p>"I was thinking of talking to Jake." He says, before correcting himself a few seconds later. "Not for what you think. I just."</p><p>He swallows.</p><p>"I feel like I need to clear the air about what happened between us." <em>And maybe get some insight on why I'm such a fuck-up.</em></p><p> </p><p>She shoots him a worried glance when he mentions Jake; it breaks her out of her thoughts on John, which she's thankful for, but it also sounds like Dirk is setting up a lot for himself.</p><p>"I think that would be good for both of you."</p><p>Her fingers drum nervously over her thighs for a minute. "Has Dave threatened him yet?"</p><p> </p><p>Dirk passes through the green light, thinking back before frowning a little at the memory of John outside the teppanyaki place. The look on his face. He knew any sort of conversation between John and Dave was a strain on them both.</p><p>"Something like that. John called it 'shovel talk,' when I asked."</p><p> </p><p>Roxy smiles and passes back the phone. "Okay. If he messes this up, I'm doubling whatever Dave does."</p><p> </p><p>Dirk blinks, glancing over to Roxy at that as he turned onto her street.</p><p>If <em>John</em> messes this up? There was nothing <em>to</em> mess up. He thought that was a little unfair of Roxy to say. It wasn't John's fault that Dirk had developed these feelings for him. He had no obligation to return them.</p><p>"...Rox. I understand you're mad at him, but it isn't fair to expect him to like me back. I'll get over it, eventually."</p><p> </p><p>"Sure, Dirk. I guess it still counts for your friendship, too. But if John makes another 'huge mistake', he's got both of us coming for him." Roxy busies herself with making sure her shoes are on properly just to have something to do, and when she straightens up again she sighs. "I'm glad we got to hang out. And I'm glad you told me. Thank you."</p><p> </p><p>He knew that she meant it. While he never expected John to do anything like what he'd done ever again, if something <em>did</em> happen... well. Dirk didn't want to think about that. But somewhere underneath his hardened exterior and his instinctive mental dismissal of the help, he still felt a warm sort of appreciation that Roxy and his brother cared so much about him.</p><p>Dirk parked in her driveway, unbuckling his seatbelt. He already knew that she'd want a hug. There was no harm in being prepared.</p><p>"...Thanks for listening. I seriously appreciate it, Rox."</p><p> </p><p>"Whenever you want to do it again, let me know okay? Try not to take weeks this time!" And obviously she wants a hug. But she's not accepting it over the center console again, so Roxy jumps out of the truck and runs around the front.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk felt sheepish at the call out, even though he knew Roxy was right to do it. He needed to spend more time with her. Not just out of obligation, though. He really did miss her. Since when had he started spending time exclusively with John, anyway?</p><p>He opens up the driver's side door, accepting Roxy's hug without a hint of complaint this time around, resting his head against her.</p><p>"I won't. I promise."</p><p> </p><p>She has to step onto the ledge to reach him, but once her arms are around him, she squeezes for all she's worth, holding the hug for a little longer than normal. "I hope you're happy, whatever happens."</p><p>She feels that pinch that indicates pain in her expression, feeling like she still has more tears to shed, so Roxy covers it with a smile as she waves and steps back, then turns to jog back into her home.</p><p> </p><p>Dirk isn't sure how to respond to that. He knows that she means it - but he isn't obtuse enough not to realize that she wishes this didn't involve John. It wouldn't be Dirk if his happiness didn't come with a catch, though, would it?</p><p>He releases her from the hug, returning the smile for a split second before her back was turned, and she was jogging back inside.</p><p>He ended up staring at the closed door for longer than he intended, trying to work himself up to the inevitable. It was never going to feel good, no matter how long he waited. Dirk pulled out his phone, and dialed Jake's number.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, so if you didn't want to read the heavily emotional chapter, the basics are that Dirk asks Roxy to go out with him to talk about 'boy problems,' so they hook up to get ice cream. But before they leave the truck, Dirk tells her what happens. He starts with what John did to him, and continues to explain that despite it, Dirk is happy with his friendship but he believes John isn't interested in a relationship with him after the end of the last chapter. Roxy doesn't take it well at all, but she still wants to be there for her friend, and Dirk makes it clear that John DOES make him happy. She's still unconvinced, even if some of the things Dirk says about the two of them together doesn't seem to fit in with her expectations of someone who could do something so awful, but she's stubborn and wants to hate him for it anyway. They go out for ice cream and talk a bit more on the way back, mostly about Dirk's belief that his feelings are unrequited. He ends up calling Jake after Roxy goes home.</p><p>Now that I don't expect any more hugely detailed conversations to come up about the past, I'm considering starting a new story, adding it to this as a collection, so I can lose the heavy tags and not keep creeping up to being the longest work in the DirkJohn tag (not that that's a bad thing, I'd be pretty proud to beat out that 300k story, but I can take a close second.)</p><p>But I'd like to ask your opinions on that - should I keep it all in one work? I also worry that I might be setting myself up for failure because my writing takes a heavy hit for a while and it might not be as satisfying to read.</p>
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